
































































































































THE 

LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM; 


OR 


A SERIES OF DISSERTATIONS 


THE LIBRARY 
OF CONGRESS 

WASHINGTON 


ON 


THEOLOGICAL, LITERARY, MORAL, AND CONTROVERSIAL 

SUBJECTS. 


./ - / 

BY ROBERT CARR AND THOMAS SW INBURN CARR. 


“ Nos genera degustamus, non bibliothecas discutimus.” 

Quintil. Inst. lib. 10. c. 1. 


LONDON: 

SIMPKIN AND MARSHALL, STATIONERS’ HALL COURT; 
W. CROFTS, 19, CHANCERY-LANE. 


MDCCCXXXII. 
















• « - * ; *<S 

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> r. 

* 

■ ' * .• 

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v 






R. AKEP, PRINTER, 




KEIGHLEY- 



SUBSCRIBERS. 


Rev. J. Addison, Burton in Lonsdale. 

G. Bacon, Wesleyan Minister, Haworth. 

T. Baker, Chester. 

J. Barber, A. M. Wilsden. 

J. Barling, Independent Minister, Halifax. 
J. Barns, Vicar of Warton. 

B. Bailey, Dewsbury. 

W. Bishop, Incumbent of Thornton. 

— Boddington, Horton , near Bradford. 

P. Bronte, A. B., Haworth. 

G. Brown, Catholic Minister, Lancaster. 

J. Bnmby, Wesleyan Minister, Halifax. 

T. Burton, A. M., Rastrick. 

W. Bury, Horton, Craven. 

R. Chapman, Ingleton. 

A. Clarkson, Independent Min., Bingley. 

O. L. Collins, Osset. 

J. Cowell, Incumbent of Todmorden. 

J. M’Creery, Wesleyan Min., Cleckheaton. 
J. W. Dew, Halifax. 

R. Dunderdale, A. M., Tunstall , (2 copies.) 
T. Dury, A. M., Rector of Keighley. 

A. Farrar, Wesleyan Minister, Halifax. 

H. Fish, Wesleyan Minister, Bradford. 

J. C. Franks, A. M., Vicar of Huddersfield. 

H. Gibson, A. B., Caton. 

J. Gilderdale, A. M. Edgerton-Lodge, near 
Huddersfield. 

B. Godwin, Baptist Minister, Bradford. 

D. Griffiths, Baptist Minister, Burnley. 

J. Hannah, Wesleyan Min., Huddersfield. 
R. Harris, B. D., Minister of St. George’s, 
Preston. 

R. Hartley, D. D., Bingley. 

H. Heap, A. M. Vicar of Bradford. 

S. Heejey, Independent Minister, Kirkby- 
Lonsdale. 

J. Henderson, Colne. 

J. Henley, Wesleyan Minister, Lancaster. 


Rev. J. Hope, Southowram. 

J. Howson, A. B., Giggleswick. 

J. Hudson, B. D., Vicar of Kendal. 

R. Ingram, B. D., Giggleswick. 

J. Jennings, Wesleyan Minister, Halifax. 

T. Johnstone, Unitarian Min., Wakefield. 

T. Keighley, Catholic Min., Huddersfield. 
T. Kilby, Incumbent of Wakefield. 

J. Lingard, D. D., Catholic Min., Hornby. 
W. Lockwood, Brig house. 

J. D. Lorraine, Independent Min., Wakefield 

R. Mallison, Arkholme. 

R. M. Master, A. M., Burnley. 

— Nelson, Overkellet. 

T. Newbery, A. M., Shipley. 

J. Parker, near Buxton, 

J. Perring, A. M., Vicar of Skipton. 

R. Pool, independent Minister, Thornton. 
T. B. Pooley, A. M., Ingleton. 

J. Pridie, Independent Minister, Halifax. 
R. Procter, Hornby. 

J. Robinson, Clapham. 

J. Saul, Greenrow, Cumberland. 

M. Saunders, Baptist Minister, Haworth. 

J. Sawrey, Claughton. 

R. Skirrow, A. M., Bentham. 

J. Stephenson, Wesleyan Min., Bradford. 

T. B. Stuart, Halifax. 

J. Tatham, Vicar of Melling. 

W. Tiler, Independent Minister, Keighley. 

R. Wearing,- Northumberland. 

H. Wilson, A. M., Vicar of Marton, (2 cop.) 

I. Woodcock, Wesleyan Minister, Settle. 

S. Whitewood, Baptist Minister, Halifax. 

J. M. Wright, A. M., Rector of Tatham. 


Mr. Abbotson, Austwick. 

E. Ackroyd, Halifax. 

Adcock, Settle. 

Aked, Keighley. 

J. Akroyd, Esquire, Halifax. 

Mr. Altham, Surgeon, Burton in Lonsdale. 
Ambler, Grove-mill, Keighley. 
Anderton, Surgeon, Lancaster. 
Anonymous, Burhtey. 

Anonymous, Bradford. 

Anonymous, Halifax. 

Archer, Skipton. 

Armistead, Claughton. 

Aslin, Settle. 

Astin, Surgeon, Huddersfield. 

J. Bailey, Keighley. 

Bairstow, Steeton. 

H. Baldwin, Halifax. 

Barraclough, do. 

J. Barber, Solicitor, B rig house. 

D. Barker, do. Wakefield. 

A. Barker, Todmorden. 

E. Bates, Halifax. 

T. Bateson, Burton in Lonsdale. 
Bateson, Kirkby Lonsdale. 

Bateson, Solicitor, Morpeth. 


Mr. B. Bailey, Skipton. 

Beattie, Elland. 

T. Beaumont, Keighley. 

G. Beck, Surgeon, Keighley. 

Mr. H. Beecroft, do. 

Beeslay, Burton in Lonsdale. 

W. G. Bell, Melling-hall , Esquire. 

Mr. J. Bell, Brig house. 

J. Bell, Colne. 

Bell, Kirkby Lonsdale. 

J. H. Bell, Leeds. 

Bell, Druggist, Leeds. 

J. Bell, Huddersfield. 

G. Bentley, Solicitor, Bradford. 

J. Binns, Keighley. 

J. Birkbeck, Anley-house. Esquire. 

W. Birkbeck, Esquire, Settle. 

T. Birkbeck, Esquire, do. 

Mr. E. Blomley, Todmorden. 

Bolland, Stationer, Huddersfield. 
Bolton, Solicitor, Colne. 

D. Wilkinson Booth, Keighley. 

J. Bould, jun., Halifax. 

J. Bradley, Keighley. 

W. Bradley, Halifax. 

J. T. Bradshaw, Surgeon, Huddersfield. 









Mr. J. M. Brandrett, Preston. 

Rawdon Briggs. Junior, Esquire, Halifax. 
Mr. Brocklebanlc, Kendal. 

J. Brooke, Brig house. 

Broomhead, do. 

T. Brown, Solicitor, Skipton. 

G. B. Brown, Esquire, Halifax. 

Mr. T. Brown, do. 

Buck, Alderman of Preston. 

W. Buckley, Todmorden. 

Burnop, St. Helen's, near Liverpool. 

E. Burrow, Esquire, West-house. 

G. Burrow, Nuby-court, Esquire. 

Mr. Burrow, Surgeon Settle. 

Burrow, Guy-hill. 

Burton, Preston. 

B. Calvert, Junior, Bradford. 

W. Camm, Clifton. 

T. Carr, University, London. 

J. Carr, Bnghouse. 

J. Carter, Esquire, Elland. 

Mr. J. H. Carter, Wakefield. 

Chambers, Todmorden. 

Chappell, Halifax. 

R. Chippendale, Esquire, Skipton. 

S. B. Clapham, Aireworth-house, Esquire. 
Mr. Clapham, Utley. 

Clapham, Morton. 

Clarke, Stationer, Lancaster. 

R. Clarke, Bradford. 

W. Clayton, Esquire, Langcliffe. 

Mr. Cleave, Glasgow. 

T. Clegg, Wakefield. 

J. Cockroft, M. D., Halifax. 

M’c Connochie, Solicitor, Burnley. 

Mr. Copperthwaite, Surgeon, Halifax. 
J. Corlass, Keighley. 

Miss Cragg, Giggleswick. 

Mr. Cragg, Kirkby-Lonsdale. 

Craven, Low-mill, Keighley. 

Craven, Walk-mill, do. 

E. Craven, Dockroyd. 

Cross, Attorney, Preston. 

J. Crowther, Halifax. 

Cullingworth, Brighouse. 

W. Dawson, Esquire, Kirkby-Lonsdale. 

Mr. Dearden, Huddersfield. 

T. Denton, Halifax. 

D. Dewhirst, Keighley. 

Dewhirst, Bradford. 

Dickinson, do. 

Miss Dilke, Skipton. 

Mr. B. Dixon, Solicitor, Wakefield. 

T. Dodgson, M. D., Skipton. 

T. Dowson, Preston, 

Drake, Halifax. 

J. Drake, do. 

R. Driver, Leeds. 

G. Dudgeon, Solicitor, Settle. 

Eastham, Kirkby-Lonsdale. 

Eastwood, Solicitor, Burnley. 
Eastwood, Halifax 
Eastwood, Surgeon, Brighouse. 
Eccles, Todmorden. 

Edmondson, Lancaster , 

W. Emmet, Halifax. 

W. Ellis, Castlefield, Esquire. 

Mr. Ellison, Keighley. 

Ewan, Wray. 

Farrar, Halifax. 

O. Farrer, Ingleborough , Esquire. 

J. Fielden, Esquire, Todmorden. 

J. Foster, Esquire, Clapham. 

Mr. Foster, Stationer, Kirkby-Lonsdale. 

B. Fox, Wakefield. 


Mr. Friend, Alderman of Preston. 

Fryars, West-house. 

J. Fryer, Toothill, Esquire. 

Mr. S. Fryer, Surgeon, Rastrick. 

T. Gill, Land Agent, Keighley. 

J. Gill, do. 

J. Gledhill, Blackshaw-head. 

D. Goodall, Leeds. 

Gornall, Alderman of Preston. 

R. Gould, Esquire, Todmorden. 

W. Green, Ingleton. 

E. Greenwood, Esquire, Keighley. 

R. Greenwood, Esquire, Lees. 

W. Greenwood, Esquire, Burnley. 

J. Greenwood, Woodlands, Esquire. 

J. Greenwood, Spring-head, Esquire. 

H. Greenwood, Esquire, Halifax. 

Mr. Greenwood, Surgeon, Huddersfield. 

A. Greenwood, Kirkby-Lonsdale. 

N. Grimshaw, Esquire, Alderman of Preston. 

Mr. W. Haggas, Oakworth-hall. 

J. Haigh, Esquire, Halifax. 

R. Haigh, Esquire, do. 

W. Haigh, Esquire, do. 

Mr. S. B. Hall, Solicitor, Skipton. 

P. Hall, Solicitor, Keighley. 

Hall, Brighouse. 

Hamerton, Surgeon, Elland, 

Hamilton, Linguist. 

Hammerton, Solicitor, Todmorden. 

J. C. Hampden, London. 

Hanson, Surgeon, Settle, 

Hardaker, Keighley. 

J. Hargreaves, Farnhill-hall, Esquire. 

Mr. T. Hargreaves, Solicitor, Wakefield. 

C. Harris, Esquire, Bradford. 

Captain Harrison, Colne. 

Mr. Harrison, Surgeon, Preston. 

Harrison, F. G. School, do. 

Hartley, Bng house. 

H. Haslem, Burrow-hall , Esquire. 

J. Hatfeild, Esquire, Wakefield. 

G. Haworth, Hawthorn-house, Esquire, near 
Burnley. 

Mr. S. Haworth, Surgeon, Burnley. 

W. Heap, Halifax. 

T. A. Heaps, Huddersfield. 

Heald, Lancaster, 

E. Henry, Grassington. 

Mrs. Hetherington, Burton in Lonsdale. 

Mr. Higham, Solicitor, Brighouse. 

Hiley, Leeds. 

J. Hindle, Keighley. 

Hird, Huddersfield. 

J. C. Hoadson, Junior, Halifax. 

S. Hodgson, Esquire, do. 

Mr. L. Hodgson, Lancaster. 

W. Hodgson, do. 

Hodgson, Surgeon, Clapham. 

Hodgson, Keighley. 

Holden, Cullingworth. 

Holdswortli, Burnley. 

G. Holgate, Junior, Esquire, do. 

Mr. Holme, Milnthorpe. 

W. Holme, Lancaster. 

T. Holmes, Esquire, Halifax. 

Mr. R. Holmes, Skipton. 

J. Holt, Todmorden. 

W. Horsfall, Halifax. 

R. F. Housman, Esquix-e, Lancaster. 

Mr. Howson, Nottingham. 

Howson, Settle. 

Ianson, Solicitoi', Wakefield. 

J. Ingle, Keighley. 

Jackson, Bradford. 





111 . 


Mr. Jackson, Druggist, Lancaster. 

Jackson, Settle. 

Jackson, Solicitor, Settle. 

E. Jackson, Woodhouse-Grove. 

T. H. Johnson, Grove-hill , Esq., near Bentham. 
H. Johnson, Esquire, Halifax. 

Mr. Johnson, Lower Bentham. 

A. Johnson, High Bentham. 

J. Jowett, Keighley. 

Just, Kirkby-Lonsdale. 

John Kaye, Huddersfield. 

Keighley, Keighley. 

Kemp, Stationer, Huddersfield. 

R. M. M’Kenzie, Keighley. 

Kershaw, Bradford. 

T. F. Kettle, Halifax. 

Kidd, do. 

Kilburn, Burton in Lonsdale. 

Kirkham, Hornby. 

Knowles, Lancaster. 

Knox, Keighley. 

Langhorne, Giggleswick. 

Law, Tunstall. 

Leach, Riddlesden-hall. 

Leader, Overtown. 

Ledbeater, Mirfield. 

J. Lee, Esquire, St. John’s Place, Wakefield. 

T. Lee, Esquire, do. do. 

R. Leeming, Esquire, Bolton le Sands. 

Mr. Leeming, Cheetham-hill , near Manchester. 
Leeming, Lancaster. 

B. Leeming, Wray. 

Lindsay, Surgeon, Rastrick. 

Lister, Halifax. 

K. Liversidge, Huddersfield. 

Longrigg, Lancaster. 

Lewthwaite, Halifax. 

Mackley, Surgeon, Huddersfield. 

W. Macturk, M. D., Bradford. 

£. Margerison, Esquire, Burnley. 

Mr. Marsden, Surgeon, Skipton. 

Marshal], High Bentham. 

Mason, Grassington. 

L. Massey, Burnley. 

J. Massey, do. 

F. Menet, St. John’s Place , Wakefield. 
Metcalfe, Solicitor, Keighley. 

Metcalfe, Hawes. 

S. Michell, Grassington. 

T. Miller, Esquire, Alderman of Preston. 

Mr. Miller, Stationer, Lancaster. 

J. Milligan, Keighley. 

H. Milligan, Bradford. 

T. Mitchell, Esquire, Skipton. 

Mr. Mitchell, Surgeon, Keighley. 

Mitchell, do. Cross-hills. 

Mitchell, Lane-ends. 

Monies, Bradford. 

W. Moore, Junior, Grimesal-hall , Esquire. 

Mr. Moore, Alderman of Preston. 

Moore, Stationer, Huddersfield. 

Mordaunt, Sheffield. 

T. Morley, Huddersfield. 

Morrison, Burton in Lonsdale. 

Moseley, Huddersfield. 

Moulton, Halifax. 

J. Mouncey, Esquire, Alderman of Preston. 

Mr. T. Nash, Junior, Leeming-hall. 

C. Netherwood, Cliffie-house, Esquire, near 
Keighley. 

W. Netherwood, Esquire, Skipton. 

New-end Book Society, Halifax, Rev. W. Tur¬ 
ner, Secretary. 

R. T. North, Thurland-castle, Esq. (2 copies.) 
Mi-. Nutter, Collingholme. 


Mr. T. Ormerod, Brighouse. 

Ovington, Skipton. 

Paley, Alderman of Preston. 

Palmer, do. do. 

Park, do. do. 

R. Parker, Solicitor, Halifax. 

Parkinson, Bradford. 

^ M. Patterson, Halifax. 

A. Pearson, Steeton. 

J. Peart, Esquire, Settle. 

J. Pedder, Esquire, Alderman of Preston. 

Mr. Perring, E. L. I., Leeds. 

Petty, Alderman of Preston. 

Pickard, Solicitor, Kirkby-Lonsdale. 

Pickles, Keighley. 

J. Pitchforth, Brighouse. 

Preston, Solicitor, Kirkby-Lonsdale. 

G. Pollard, Junior, Esquire, Halifax. 

E. Pollard, Hood-house , Esquire, near Burnley. 
W. Procter, Carnforth-lodge, Esquire. 

Mr. Procter, Chester. 

G. Procter, Keighley. 

Procter, Liverpool. 

Rawnsley, Halifax. 

Rea, Warrington , 

Redmayne, Settle. 

Mrs. Reynolds, Kirkby-T^onsdale. 

Mr. S. Rhodes, Wakefield. 

J. Rhodes, Bradford. 

Richardson, Bingley. 

Robinson, Solicitor, Giggleswick. 

— Robinson, M. D., Manchester. 

Robinson, Solicitor, Settle. 

W. Robinson, Keighley. 

Robinson, Draper, do. 

Robinson, Skipton. 

Rogers, Stationer, Halifax. 

Rushforth, Keighley. 

Russell, Lancaster. 

Sager, Todmorden. 

Sanderson, Lancaster. 

Sargent, Surgeon, Huddersfield. 

J. Schofield, Esquire, Rastrick. 

Mr. Scholey, Solicitor, Wakefield. 

Scott, Junior, Preston. 

Scowby, Skipton. 

Seaton—Messieurs Neeles’, Engravers, 352, 
Strand. 

Sellers, Surgeon, Ingleton. 

Settle, Bradford. 

Shackleton, Skipton. 

Shackleton, Braithwaite. 

Sigston, Leeds. 

Simpson, Surgeon, Skipton. 

Sindall, Spalding. 

Skirrow, Halifax. 

T. Sleddan, Esquire, Liverpool. 

J. Smith, Esquire, near Wilsden. 

Mr. Smith, Carlton. * 

B. Smith, Cross-hills. 

G. Smith, Halifax. 

C. Smith, Stock-bridge. 

S. Smith, Halifax. 

Smith, Morton. 

R. Smithes, Greeta-house, Esquire. 

H. Smithes, Esquire, Milnthorpe. 

Mr. Spencer, Solicitor, Keighley. 

E. Spink, Pontefract. 

Stackhouse, Giggleswick. 

J. Stansfield, Solicitor, Todmorden. 

G. Starkey, Esquire, Huddersfield. 

Starkey, Surgeon, Wakefield. 

Stockdale, Junior, Skipton. 

Stockey, Leeds. 

Stott, Halifax. 





IV. 


W. Sugden, Eastwood-house, Esquire, near 
Keighley. 

Mr. J. Sugden, Dockroyd. 

A. S. Sunderland, Keighley. 

W. Sutcliffe, Esquire, Settle. 

W. Sutcliffe, Esquire, near Todmorden. 

Mr. S. Sutcliffe, Solicitor, Stansfield-hall, near 
Todmorden. 

J. Sutcliffe, Junior, Ovingden-liall, near 
Halijax. 

A. Suter, Halifax. 

J. Swainson, Frenchwood, Esquire, near 
Preston. 

Swann, Brighouse. 

Sykes, Junior, Leeds. 

Sykes, Keighley. 

Tait, Bradford. 

Tateson, Halifax. 

E. Tatham,Esquire, Cantsfield. 

E. Tatham, Hipping-hall , Esquire. 

Mr. Tatham, Surgeon, Kendal. 

Tatham, Settle. 

Tattersfield, Huddersfield. 

W. Taylor, Alderman of Preston. 

Taylor, do. do. 

Taylor, High Bentham. 

T. Taylor, Solicitor, Wakefield. 

Temple, Burnley. 

Tennant, Kirkby-Lonsdale. 

Tetley, Bradford. 

Thomson, West-brook-house, do. 

J. Thomson, do. do. 

Thomson, Kirkby-Lonsdale. 

W. Thompson, Todmorden. 

Thornton, Burton in Lonsdale. 

Threlfall, Morton. 

Mrs. A. Titrington, Caton. 


Mr. Tolson, Surgeon, Bingley. 

Tomlinson, Alderman of Preston. 
Tomlinson, Bitter. 

G. Townend, Cullingworth. 

S. Townend, Thornton. 

E. Townend, Denholme. 

Townson, Natland. 

Waddington, Burnley. 

Wade, Skipton. 

E. W. Wakefield, Esquire, Kendal. 

J. K. Walker, M. D. Huddersfield. 

Mr. Walsh, Halifax. 

W. Waring, Attorney, Preston. 
Watson, Solicitor, Wakefield. 

Watters, Surgeon, Kirkby-Lonsdale. 
Wells, Morton. 

R. H. Welsh, Leck-house, Esquire. 

Mr. Whaley, Harden-mill. 

Wheeler, Preston. 

J. Whitley, Keighley. 

Widdop, Brighouse. 

Wilcock, Darwin. 

Wildman, Wray. 

Wildman, Keighley. 

J. Wilkinson, Wakefield. 

Wilkinson, Juniof, Colne. 

H. Willan, Barnsley. 

Willet, Veterinary Surgeon, Bradford. 
G. Wilson, Cross-hills. 

Wilson, Leeds. 

E. Wilson, Esquire, Kirkby-Lonsdale. 

Mr. Wilson, Draper, do. 

M. Wilson, Eshton-hall, Esquire. 

Mr. J. Wilson, Junior, Colne. 

W. H. Wood, Cragg, Esquire, near Colne. 
Mr. Woodburn, Alderman of Preston. 

L. Wright, Clough-house. 

J. Wright, Hebden-bridge. 


NAMES OMITTED IN THE PRECEDING LIST. 


Mr. Brown, Whaitber. 

Foster, near Clapham. 

Rev. J. Hutchinson, Skipton. 

J. W. Whittaker, D. D., Blackburn. 
E. Sumner, Wesleyan Minister, do. 
H. Hickman, do. do. 

Mr. J. Bailey, Surgeon, do. 

J. Barlow, do. do. 


Mr. T. Smith, Keighley. 

B. Smith, do. 

Robinson, Surgeon, Settle. 

D. Robinson, Solicitor, Blackburn. 
H. Hargreaves, do. do. 

W r . Eccles, do. do. 

W. Edleston, do. do. 


ERRATA. 

For Edmondson, Lancaster, read Edmondson, Solicitor, Settle. 

For Mackley, Surgeon, Huddersfield, read Mackley, Surgeon, Wilsden 
For C. Harris, Esquire, Bradford, read H. Harris, Esquire, Bradford. 


The Authors of the “Literary PancratiuiM,” in concluding their present 
undei taking, beg leave to return their most sincere thanks to the Subscribers, for the 
generous support which they have experienced. That their most sanguine antici¬ 
pations, in this respect, have been realized, will be evident from the fact that an 
Edition of fixe hundred Copies is already exhausted. Averse as they may be to the 
mere “ bandying of compliments,” yet they cannot disguise the pleasure which they 
feel in reflecting that the Subscription List ensures the circulation of the Work 
amongst such a numerous body of respectable and discriminating readers. 








CONTENTS. 


S PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 

1. Introductory remarks on prefaces. 2. Intellectual character of Johnson.. 3. Lord 
Byron. 4. Strictures on the dogmatists. 5. Nature and character of apologetic prefaces. 
6. Prospective emotions, p. 1. 


DISSERTATION I. 

' ON KNOWLEDGE. 

1. The natural dormancy of the human faculties. 2. The influence of associatio7i upon the 
intellectual character. 3. The gradual development of philosophy and science, p. 17. 


DISSERTATION II. 

ON THE IMMATERIALITY OF THE SOUL. 

SECTION I.—1. The necessity of adhering to strictness of definition, with respect to matter 
and spirit. 2. The interesting nature and importance of the inquiry, urged from the 
universality of the mental faculties—the connexion of an immaterial principle with a 
future state, and its greatness, with respect to its own intrinsic energies, and the won¬ 
ders which it has achieved. 3. Intelligence not a property of matter in its unorganized 
state, or more simple combinations. 4. A statement of the organic changes, which im¬ 
mediately precede sensation. 5. The mysterious connexion of matter and spirit favour¬ 
able for the admission of hypotheses and the interposition of mechanical processes, p. 26. 

SECTION II.—6. The theories of modern materialists briefly stated. 7. The theory of 
Dr. Priestley refuted. 8. The theory of Bichat, Cuvier, and the French Phi¬ 
losophers examined. 9. The theory of Dr. Lawrence shewn to be untenable. 
10. The phenomena of memory , etc., utterly inexplicable upon the theories of the ma¬ 
terialists. H. Strictures on modern scepticism. 12. Concluding observations on the 
dignity of man, with respect to his present faculties, and the prospect of an unfading 
existence, p. 37. 


DISSERTATION III. 

ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

SECTION I.—1. In proof of the immortality of the soul no aid can be derived from meta¬ 
physical arguments. 2. From the soul being distinct from the body, and in many cases 
not affected by organic disease, a presumption may be drawn that the dissolution of the 
body may not be the dissolution of the principle of consciousness. 3. This presumption 
derives strength from the soul’s capacity of indefinite improvement. 4. The moral dis¬ 
orders of the present administration appear to indicate a future one of impartial retribu¬ 
tion. p. 50. 






VI. 


CONTENTS. 


SECTION II.—1. It is more easy to comprehend a truth, than to discover it. 2. The argu¬ 
ments in proof of the soul’s immortality not so strongly felt by the ancient philosophers as 
the modern. 3. They had no accurate notions of the soul’s immateriality. 4. Their 
metaphysical arguments were not very convincing. 5. Those drawn from the sublimity 
of our faculties, do not appear to have been felt as demonstrative. 6. Their ignorance 
of the origin of evil, darkened the argument drawn from the moral disorders of the 
present world. 7. Upon the supposition of a future state, it still had its difficulties, p. 62. 

SECTION III.—1. The doctrine of the immortality of the soul neutralized by the opinion 
which was held by many of the Greek Schools, concerning the absorption of the human 
soul after death, into the essence of the Deity. 2. The notion of a periodical destruction 
and renovation of the universe equally pernicious. 3. The uncertainty of many indivi¬ 
dual philosophers specified, but particularly of Cicero. 4. The poetical mythology 
concerning Tartarus and Elysium, regarded as a tissue of vulgar fables, p. 74. 


DISSERTATION IV. 

ON NATURAL RELIGION. 

1. Strictures on the systems of natural religion. 2. The causes that have given rise to those 
systems. 3. Reasons demanded for the superiority of modern over ancient philosophers. 
4. The dark condition of the Pagan philosophers rendered still darker by their fondness 
for speculation. 5. As far as the light of nature is concerned, no superiority can be 
allowed to the moderns, p. 88. 


DISSERTATION V. 

ON THE ORIGIN OF NATURAL RELIGION. 

SECTION I.—1. With respect to natural religion, the ancient philosophers enjoyed those 
benefits which might be derived from tradition. 2. From an acquaintance with the 
Jems. 3. From travelling in the East. 4. From the Greek translation of the Old 
Testament, p. 103. 

SECTION II.—1. Ancient tradition, notwithstanding its corruption, may still be recog¬ 
nized. 2. The first corruption of it is to be charged upon the poets. 3. The philoso¬ 
phers sacrificed it in order to accommodate every thing to their own theories. 4. This 
may be very clearly illustrated by the conduct of those philosophers who flourished 
after the Christian era. p. 114. 

SECTION III.—1. A recapitulation of the arguments which have been adduced in the pre¬ 
ceding sections, with some additional observations. 2. Though we should forget, for a 
moment, the weight of this reasoning, the actual state of their philosophy is still a suffi¬ 
cient coiToboration of the view which we have taken of the subject, p. 125. 


DISSERTATION VI. 

ON THOSE MENTAL ASSOCIATIONS WHICH PRECEDE AND 
FOLLOW DISCOVERIES. 

SECTION I.—1. The difficulty of investigating the deductions of the human mind, in cir¬ 
cumstances with which we have no sympathy. 2. The difficulty, which accompanies all 
our investigations, is too apt to prejudice the mind, which is already habituated to 
knowledge as it is, against any attempts to improve it. 3. The influence of great names 
in perpetuating error. 4. Every age is tinctured with a vanity peculiar to itself, p. 137. 

SECTION II.—1. The vividness of any temporary emotion indicates a proportionate sus¬ 
pension of the reasoning faculties, and vice versa , the predominance of the reasoning 





CONTENTS. 


Vll. 


faculties indicates a corresponding decline of the emotion. 2. This axiom is applicable 
to knowledge. 3. The faculty of knowing every thing by intuition , would perhaps not 
be compatible with our happiness in the present state. 4. When we are once enlightened 
upon a subject, it is almost impossible for us to call up those ideas and emotions which 
preceded the state of mind to which we allude. 5. Discoveries that appear trivial, are 
often attended with the most important results, p. 152. 

SECTION III.—1. The necessity of diversified illustrations in argumentative disquisitions. 
2. The advantages of studying the philosophy of the human mind. 3. An enumeration 
of the different sources of prejudices. 4. Observations upon the intellectual character of 
Lord Bacon. 5. A general reflection, p. 180. 


DISSERTATION VII. 

ON LANGUAGE. 

1. On the nature of language, and the facilities which it affords for the unlimited transmis¬ 
sion of thought. 2. The influence of the speculative spirit upon this question. 3. The¬ 
oretical histories of the primeval state of man and the 'world. 4. Language not the 
indispensable medium of actual thinking, p. 196. 


DISSERTATION VIII. 

ON THE EXISTENCE OF THE DEITY. 

SECTION I.—1. Remarks on systems of classification, and the influence which they exert 
upon our ideas. 2. A sketch of the different periods in the intellectual history of man, 
and particularly of German rationalism. 3. An inquiry into the origin of our idea 
concerning the existence of the Deity, p. 226. 

SECTION II.—1. The idea of a God, in the first instance, the subject of a divine revelation , 
and afterwards preserved by tradition. 2. Independently of such a revelation, reason 
does not appear to be capable of developing this idea. 3. Granting this discovery, yet 
there would still exist difficulties with respect to the attributes of the Deity, as may 
easily be proved from the speculations of the ancient mythologists, poets, and philoso¬ 
phers, on the origin of his existence. 4. On his unity. 5. Spirituality. 6. Omnipre¬ 
sence. 7. Omnipotence. 8. Providence, p. 290. 


DISSERTATION IX. 

ON REVELATION. 

1. The importance of the question indicates the temper of mind in which we ought to ap¬ 
proach its discussion. 2. As experience is the only basis of our physical knowledge, 
miracles, like other matters of fact, must be judged according to the same principle. 
3. The use of miracles. 4. The necessity of a revelation. 5. On the mysteries of revela¬ 
tion. 6. On the authority of revelation, p. 325. 






. 

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PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


AXto S’em /xs-yav ov$ov ! * * *—Hom. Odyss. lib. 22. 

1. Introductory remarks on prefaces. 2. Intellectual character of Johnson. 3. Lord Byron. 

4. Strictures on the dogmatists. 5. Nature and character of apologetic prefaces. 6. Pros¬ 
pective emotions. 

1. A Preface ! All the authors, living and dead—all those who are buried 
in the gulf of oblivion, and all those who may be seen “ nantcs in gurgite 
vasto ,” appear to gather round us, like the listening ghosts, peering over the 
shoulder of Alcaeus, in order to dissuade us from writing a preface ! 

But if no preface is to be written, may not something be written about pre¬ 
faces ! As an accession to the philosophy of the human mind we have always 
considered the study of prefaces as highly valuable. If they may be termed a 
species of composition, we know of no species which gives us a deeper analytical 
insight into the reduplications of the human mind, which indicates more un¬ 
erringly the tendencies of an author’s temperament, or develops more fully his 
peculiar idiosyncrasy. There is no longer any predominant object which can 
give a definite mould to his ideas ;—he is no longer in his moods of deep and 
commanding inspiration, for he has descended from the tripod. He is now 
arranging himself for the public—he is going through the process of the 
literary toilette—he is practising before the glass, and playing at see-saw 
with his own image and superscription. His vanity is now at a high pressure 
—“ the moon is at the full—it is the very error of the time. There is a perpetual 
collision of eccentricities—a tilt and tournament of absurdities, pampered into 
all sorts of capriciousness, airy, extravagant and ostentatious; affectation 
verging into idiotcy and languid sensibility that might 

‘ Die of a rose in aromatic pain.’ ” 

It is somewhere observed in the Johnsoniana of Boswell, that a man, 
when he goes into a library, feels an irresistible curiosity to examine the titles 
of the different works ; and, on the other hand, when we sit down to read a 
book, the tendency to dip into the preface is equally irresistible. In the one 


A 



2 


PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


case we feel a desire to become acquainted with those works which bear a more 
or less direct affinity to our antecedent studies; and, in the other, we wish to 
obtain a more familiar introduction to the author, to be initiated into the eco¬ 
nomy of his existence, and his manner of being. As records of individual feel¬ 
ings, prefaces must ever be considered as highly valuable; but they strike us as 
doubly valuable, when we consider them as the records of the feelings of a 
class, who belong to a higher range of intellectual and organic susceptibility. 
We wish to pluck down humanity from its high and palmy state, and to calcu¬ 
late its thinkings and doings upon the scale of ordinary action. We wish to 
ascertain the circumstances that act upon its susceptibility , and the motives by 
which it is influenced; and thus, whilst we are rendering our acquaintance 
with individual character more familiar, we are, at the same time, enlarging 
our general knowledge of “mental pathology and spiritual dynamics” 

2. Amongst the first of the first rank, we must place him who, on every subject, 
brings a mind superior to it, and in the most difficult disquisition scarcely puts 
forth “ half his strength.” He descends, it is true, upon the literary arena, 
but then he can hardly be said to participate in its commotions; for, in this re¬ 
spect, the imperturbability of his temperament elevates him to a serener region, 
above the sphere of ordinary passions:—he may “ bid the earth roll,” but “he 
feels not its idle whirl.” “ With him all is in a state of lofty repose and solitary 
grandeur;—by his intellect he is raised above humanity—by his intellect he 
is deified.” In literary matters, therefore, he is perfectly reckless; yet his reck¬ 
lessness is the offspring of knowledge, not of temerity. He embarks a greater 
quantity of sense upon his expressions and sentences than any other man ; and, 
therefore, narrow and degenerate souls, who have no opinions of their own, 
cry it up for dogmatism. He demolishes established opinions by assertions 
scarcely “half an inch long;” and, therefore, the advocates of established 
blunders, who, if their playthings are to be demolished, could at least wish 
them to be demolished with the formalities of logic, swear that he deals in para¬ 
dox. Logical and consecutive in his perceptions, he is formidable as an an¬ 
tagonist—catch him you may, but you “ catch a Tartar.” The keenness of 
his satire results from the acuteness of his understanding ; but the simple, 
by one of their own processes of reasoning, for which they feel all the partiality 
of an ancient custom, convert the keenness of his satire into an argument 
against the benevolence of his heart. But the fact is, that he admits of 
no medium betwixt truth and falsehood; and in vain is it, therefore, to 
endeavour to persuade him, that 

“ Black’s not so black, nor white so very white.” 

If a person commits a mistake, he tells you that “ he lies,” and, if he thinks 
that he commits it wittingly, lie redoubles his intonation and tells you that “ he ' 
lies, and he knows he lies.” Supreme in dominion, and “ alone in his glory,” > 
he sometimes indulges merely in general assertions ; but then his assertions 


PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


3 


drive other men’s logic out of the market, for they carry along with them their 
own rationale. To every well-constituted mind, their evidence develops itself 
spontaneously ; there is no need of tracing out the intermediate gradations, for 
they follow each other as naturally as a “ sucking pig follows its mother.” 
This may not suit every body, but then, what recks it ? He is amenable to 
no tribunal—he is superior to all authority-—he is the son of the fierce, and 
“king over all the children of pride !” He obeys the dictates of his own 
conscience, the impulses of his own feelings, and last, though not least, he is 
a man after his own heart, upright, in his reasoning, and downright in his as¬ 
sertions ! He rejects the old Machiavellian doctrine of founding right upon 
power.—He rejects it because it is so excessively vulgar—because it has been the 
gullery of the nations, and has “ suckled fools” so long ; and, on the other hand, 
he flings himself into the liberalism of St. Simon, and bases right upon know¬ 
ledge. “ He who knows more than others has a right to teach;—he whose 
judgment is incontestable has a right to examine and to decide.” Sometimes 
he condescends to anticipate his critics, and knocks their heads together for the 
sake of making them look simple. “ Perhaps I may not be more censured for 
doing wrong than for doing little; for raising, in the public, expectations which 
at last I have not answered. The expectation of ignorance is indefinite, and 
that of knowledge is often tyrannical. It is hard to satisfy those who know not 
what to demand, or those who demand, by design, what they think impossible to 
be done.” But what, perhaps, may be the most vexatious of all, he dispenses 
with their archididaskalian functions; for neither praise nor censure can 
reach him in the gloomy depths of his solitude, and to him “ success and mis¬ 
carriage are empty sounds.” 

3. Our next character exhibits, in this respect, the same reckless indifference, 
though it had evolved itself out of the continuous manifestations of his own 
internal constitution after a different fashion. The one, as we have seen, 
obtained his proud pre-eminence by the mere vigour and ascendancy of his 
reasoning faculties; but the other “ swayed the rod of empire ” by the com¬ 
bined, yet conflicting energies of intellect and ol passion. Prom the dawn of life 
he was at war with the very elements of his being; and the high privileges of 
his nature, when contrasted with its deficiencies, which dragged him down be¬ 
neath the ordinary lot of humanity, only served to heighten the fevei of his 
existence:— 

« The world was not his friend, nor the world’s law.” 

He could neither coin his cheek into smiles, nor bow to its idols a patient knee. 
He could not tame down the loftiness of his spirit to fashion his conduct ac¬ 
cording to the antiquated formularies of a demure and fastidious precision ; and 
this re-acting upon the acuteness of his sympathies and antipathies drove him 
into stern l’ebellion. True, he was but one against the million, but did he, 
therefore, retire from the contest, or his spirit sink within him ? No ! His 


4 


PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


adversaries taught him a fearful lesson, for they awakened in his mind a con¬ 
sciousness of the extent of his powers, of the wealth of his ideas, and the “im¬ 
measurable opulence of his imagery.” He exhibited himself, indeed, to the 
world as a “ mark for desolationbut he braved its enrrr'ty with the proud 
sardonic disdain of one that held not himself amenable to its tribunal, and barbed 
back his vengeance with all the “eloquence of misanthropy and scorn.” His 
powers and his feelings did not correct each other; for his feelings drove him into 
action, and his powers served only to intensify his feelings by the accumulation 
of every idea that could minister a congenial sentiment. Thus the life-blood 
of his existence was corrupted at its very fountain, “ his passions consumed 
themselves to dust, and the freshness of the heart ceased to fall upon him like 
dew.” Yet, even then, he did neither dream away his existence, nor “ moulder 
piecemeal on the rock; ” but “ looked calmly down into the black abysses of 
his own mighty spirit, and conjured thence the appalling forms of spectral hor¬ 
ror and terrible misgiving. Around him, in contrasted masses of storm and 
sunshine, the elements of gloom and glory gathered confusedly. Occasionally, 
gleams of lightning thought, flashes of song that dazzled with their fitful ra¬ 
diance, dispersed or parted, for a moment, the congregated clouds and darkness 
through which they struggled, and revealed the clear, calm heaven beyond; 
but anon, 


‘ Blackness came across it, like a squall 
Darkening the sea.’ 

and the benign and gracious lustre faded into still deeper shadow!” 

“ His soul was like a star, and dwelt apart 

And it was not “ until he stood companionless on the shore of the Aigean,” 
that he felt his spirit breathe freely—his mind dilating in its dimensions, and 
adapting itself to the magnificence of external nature, to the glory that was 
above, beneath, and around him. The world of cold realities fast receded from 
his gaze, whilst the empire of the ideal gradually disclosed itself to his mind, 
and became more palpable to his perception. The horizon of his existence 
cleared up apace and grew serener to the vision ; though he still participated in 
those feelings which attach us to humanity, and give a sort of “ intellectual 
sublimity even to our sense of physical weakness.” His spirit was still dimly 
lighted up with the recollections of the past, whilst, ever and anon, it contracted 
a pleasing sadness as it moved, in retrospection, over the wreck of decayed 
feelings;—like the simoon, catching its melancholy accents, as it sweeps across 
the barrenness of the desert, or the “ ruins of desolation.” This, however, 
was the happiest phasis of his character. When you brought him back within 
the influence of the mephitic vapours of social existence, you again surrounded 
him with all the elements of combustion. But he was prepared for the struggle. 
His shield had hung in the lists ever since he had come into conflict with society; 


PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


m 

O 


and as he had not originally shrunk from the contest, its antagonism did not 
wear down his spirit, but merely served to develop his energies, and perfection- 
ate his military bearing. 

“ And there was mounting in hot haste ;” * * * 

for, like the soldier of liis country, he never felt his courage rise to a pitch of 
sublime elevation, unless at the prospect of the charge or the close combat; and 
then an intellectual animation brightened up his features, as bowing his plumed 
head to the storm, he rode down the proudest of the proud. “ R. says that the 
Quarterly will be at me next month ;—but, if so, there shall be a war of exter¬ 
mination, no quarter. From the youngest devil,* down to the oldest woman of 
that Review, all shall perish by one fatal lampoon.” 

4. A change comes o’er the spirit of our dream. “ We feel (says a modern 
writer) that beauty is always alluring, and we feel also that a certain kind 
of ugliness is sometimes respectable and imposing.” Apropos ! he who is 
armed with knowledge, is doubly armed ; but there are many persons who con¬ 
sider themselves as armed without it—strong, even in the confidence of igno¬ 
rance. The world will, ever and anon, be going out of repair; and these are a 
kind of inspector-generals, a species of literary plenipotentiaries who are com¬ 
missioned to see what is wanting. They are the dii minores, the “ little gods” 
of our literature—the very incarnations of intellect which appear, from time to 
time, amongst the “ dull-looking children of Adam,” to accelerate the onward 
tendencies of human improvement:— 

“ Blest, for their sakes, be human reason, 

Which came at last, though late in season 

If you run through the whole category of these personages, in any depart¬ 
ment, whether literary or philosophical, down from the sons of Anak, even to 
the Katterfeltos, who “ wonder for their bread,” you will still hear the same 
tale:—that when they engaged in it, “there was not something to be done, 
and something remaining to be done, but that absolutely nothing had been 
done.” Whether “ wisdom will die with them” or not, may be a question not 
altogether tangible to their anticipation. But, at all events, to make sure 
work of it, they have taken time by the forelock, and determined the other 
end of the problem, that wisdom has been born with them; for have they not 
made the sublime discovery, that all 

“ Our yesterdays have only lighted fools 
The way to dusty death ?”•- 

They certainly hold high communion with their own spirits, and have found 
out for themselves “ many inventions j” but, like the person who leaped from 


* Printer’s devil. 





6 


PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


the steeple, they may spare themselves the trouble of taking out a patent to 
ensure the protection of their monopoly. We have no objection to a man 
sinking a shaft, and working the “ diamond quarry ” of jiis own mind; but, 
perhaps, it would do him no harm to inquire whether his neighbour has not 
embarked upon a similar speculation. There may be persons who are of opi¬ 
nion, that looking into other men’s books is “ one of the many forms of idleness j” 
but, perhaps, even these persons, if they would only take the trouble of looking 
after it, might find something wherewithal they would be profited.* At all 
events, it would preserve them from reviving obsolete notions and antiquated 
theories which have “ fretted their hour upon the stage,” and passed through 
their successive periods of wonderment and derision—it would prevent them 
from making themselves ridiculous by palming upon the world, as new discove¬ 
ries, mere “ extracts from the lumber-room into which we have thrown our 
alchemists and witches.” It is really pitiable that any man, through sheer 
stupidity, should stumble in the dark, or lose himself in a mist, whilst his 
neighbour is willing to lend him a candle. But how can it be remedied ? 
What can we, or any other Christian, do for a race of literary dandies, with 
mustaches and brass spurs, who appear to exist for no other purpose than that 
of attesting the indisputable truth, that when ignorance takes care of the lug¬ 
gage, impudence turns driver ? We shall not volunteer, even in their behalf, 
to do the impossible, and therefore we leave them, like others of the same fra¬ 
ternity, to 


“ Mend when they please, grow better at their leisure.” 


Our knowledge of the human mind and the human character is not so limited 


as never to have suggested to us, that it is mere empiricism to endeavour to 
“ cure a man of any particular folly, unless he could be cured of being a fool.” 

Say what you will to the contrary, if you will only look abroad in the world, 
you will find that quackery, whether religious or professional, literary or politi-. 
cal, is still a marketable commodity. To us it seemeth to partake of the nature 
of the infinite series of the mathematicians, a number of whose terms you may 


* “ The fact is, that none but very weak men would attempt to write a book on any 
important branch of general knowledge, without carefully consulting preceding writers. 
There is nothing new under the sun but method and illustration. This is as true of non¬ 
sense as of sense; its circle is more irregular, but it moves round it. There are only two 
methods open to a writer,—either to put his extracts from his masters, between honest quo¬ 
tation-marks, or to melt down their sayings into the mass of his ow n paragraphs. Whenever 
the book of another writer is really before an author, we should prefer to see the former mode 
adopted. But authors are generally deterred from this, because the folly of many readers 
would consider it as a proof of their want of originality if many professed quotations, how¬ 
ever appropriate, were found in their productions; and thus the latter mode is generally 
preferred, though it can take with none but the half-thinking reader, who looks grave, and 
surrenders himself to the deception, with an air of wisdom. Authors, who thus practise upon 
their readers, ought not, however, to quarrel with each other; but rather, if we may use so 
homely a phrase, ‘eat their pudding and hold their tongues .’”—Wesleyan Magazine, Vol. Ill 
(third series) p. 35— 6. 




PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


7 


reduce to a sum that shall be less than any assignable quantity ; yet you will 
never be able to reduce it to nothing. This, therefore, is a matter of necessity, 
and, like other matters of necessity, it must be tolerated, for it cannot be mend¬ 
ed. Let the march of civilization be ever so rapid, somebody must be last, and 
the quacks will catch him; for they always fix upon those “ duck-legged drum¬ 
mer-boys that cannot keep up with their regiment.” It has been laid down as 
an axiom, by political economists, that the ratio of production has a natural ten¬ 
dency to adjust itself to the ratio of consumption : and it has been further laid 
down by the said authorities, that the production of any commodity will be 
necessarily discontinued, when it will not afford the producers a living profit. 
Apply these axioms to the matter in hand, and they will explain to you the 
whole secret. The cunning thrive upon the ignorant; for there will be no 
deceivers where there are no persons who can be deceived, and there will 
be no mystification where there are no persons who can be mystified ! There 
would be no St. John Longs, no rubbers, if there were not persons who possess 
their souls in ignorance as well as in patience, and who are, therefore, willing to 
be rubbed, and to have faith in this universal remedy ! There would be no pro¬ 
fessors of St. Simonianism, if there were not persons who are ready to believe 
that the institution of property is a bungling institution, and that the world 
would be better managed, if it was managed by a select vestry of St. Simonians, 
who would distribute to every man according to his capacity, and to every capa¬ 
city according to its works! Parson Irving would never have flourished 
amongst the unknown languages, after he had become defunct in his mother’s 
tongue, if there did not exist persons who are “ conscious that what they do 
understand is of very little value, and are therefore minded to try whether what 
they do not understand, may be of more ! ” But ambages longce, the “ tale is 
long,” and there is no end of the labours that are “ done under the sun.” Have 
we not heard of the members of the Trinitarian Bible-Societies, who stoutly 
refuse to be harnessed in the same team with the “whiskered heretics”—despising 
their money as an unholy thing, and yet, at the same time, make no scruple of 
tithing them even to their “mint, anise, and cummin?” We do not wish, 
after all, to quarrel about sixpences with those who are upon their road to 
heaven; we have no such desire or intention, and the only thing that any 
rational Christian can require of them is, that they shall be civil during the 
journey. 

When Casaubon first visited the Sorbonnc, his pompous Cicerone exclaimed, 
“ Here, sir, is a court which, for five hundred years, has been the 'Scene of in¬ 
cessant disputations !” “ Good God ! (answered the acute Genevese) and what 

have they proved ?” For our own parts, dreary and comfortless, we have but 
just emerged from the profound abysses of German ^Esthetics ; and the varia¬ 
tions of philosophical schools have almost moon-struck us into a sort of languid 
indifference. “Of these everlasting disputes, what has been the result?— 
What has been gained by endless controversy ?” On the other hand, what 


8 


PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


we have gained in knowledge, we have lost in superstition. We cannot but 
allow that it would be very comfortable, as in days of yore, to “ have an uncle a 
god, and an aunt a goddess.” But the age of miracles has gone by, never to 
return ! No man expects to hear any horses speak, unless they be the horses 
redivivi of Achilles; and no man expects to see blood flow from any tomb, un¬ 
less it be the tomb of Polydorus. The Phoenix no longer perishes in its flame 
and re-produces its offspring from its own ashes; and the Egyptian traveller 
no longer expects to hear musical sounds floating, as of old, from the statue of 
Memnon. Gaps are no longer seen in the heavens, similar to the chasms de¬ 
scribed by Livy ; and men have lost half of their charity by ascribing their 
calamities to each other, instead of tying them to the tails of comets. The 
happy islands are still floating in the West, for all lands have been discovered 
but the land of bliss. But if there has been such a revolution in the objects of 
our ignorance and superstition, has there not been an equal revolution in the 
objects of our knowledge ? Even New Holland, that extra-mundane leviathan, 
has spoiled a proverb. That “ uncommon bird” which was so “very much 
like a black swan,” took flight at its discovery. The Eton Grammar must 
be corrected ; or else the boys will be taught nonsense.* 

5. A change comes o’er the spirit of our dream, and re-calls us from our wander¬ 
ings into the mysteries and the marvels of the primeval time. The class of 
prefaces which have already come under our notice, may be termed the dog¬ 
matical, as originating either in the confidence of ignorance or of knowledge; 
and the other class, which remains for consideration, may be termed the apolo¬ 
getic, as dealing in apologies and extenuations. 

Amongst the first of this class, we must place those who base the merits of 
their apology upon that “ unspiritual god, circumstance,” and who wish you to 
believe that they have been prevented by the “ multiplicity of their avocations, ” 
from paying that attention to the subject which was due to its importance, and to 
the respect which they owe to their own character. They do not wish either to be 
lowered in public estimation, or to lose any portion of their own fair fame; and, 
therefore, this “ multiplicity of avocations” is to serve as an apology for all de¬ 
ficiencies, and a “ city of refuge ” for all blunders. We do not wish to be sceptical 
upon this subject, for we are ready to believe that a man may be busy, and we 
are ready also to believe that a man may make more to do about nothing than 


* “But this is New Holland, where it is summer with us when it is winter in Europe, 
and ,vice versa ; where the barometer rises before bad weather, and falls before good; where 
the north is the hot wind, and the south the cold; where the humblest house is fitted 
up with cedar; where the fields are fenced with mahogany, and myrtle-trees are burnt for 
fire-wood; where the sna7is are black and the eagles white; where the kangaroo, an animal 
between the squirrel and the deer, has five claws on its fore-paws, and three talons on its hind¬ 
legs, like a bird, and yet hops on its tail; where the mole lays eggs, and has a duck’s bill; 
where there is a bird with a broom in its mouth instead of a tongue ; where there is a fish 
one half belonging to the genus Raja, and the other to that of Scjualus where the pears are 
made of wood, with tlje stalk at the broader end; and where the cherry grows with the stone 
on the outside.”— Field’s New South Wales, p. 461. 




PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


9 


what is either profitable or necessary. But how in the name of wonder, this 
should serve as an apology for any thing, unless for reducing the price of your 
commodity to a level with its quality, we cannot conceive ! If the reading pub¬ 
lic, when they settle their booksellers’ bills, should strike off five and twenty per 
cent as a drawback upon those works which were acknowledged to have been 
brought out in an unfinished state, they would soon cure both author and publish¬ 
er of the folly either of writing or publishing such nonsense. It is really strange, 
that in these “ piping times of peace,” when every man is resting upon his oars, 
becalmed forsooth, and scarcely knowing in what direction to give the next 
stroke—it is passing strange, that any author should come forward and tell a 
benevolent public (who never wished that the poor creature should be hurried), 
that he cannot find time to serve up either his sense or his folly after a credita¬ 
ble fashion ! But, perhaps, a little further relief may be administered to our 
patients, by applying the lancet in another quarter • for we cannot help imagin¬ 
ing that when persons make professions of this sort, something of vanity is 
uppermost in their intentions. They indeed do aspire to belong to the class of 
those who “ handle the pen of the writer;” but they wish you also to conceive 
of them as belonging to the men of the world, as well as to the men of letters. 
Yorke , you’re wanted! is even tickling to the imaginations of your irritabile 
genus; for a little bustle gives many persons an air of consequence, and almost 
redeems them from the contempt of their own faculties. With persons of this 
east, the art of book-making is scarcely of sufficient importance as to be con¬ 
sidered a distinct craft and mystery.* They affect to look upon it as a mere 
matter of amusement; something like angling by the pure element of waters, 
like building a house or taking to one’s self a wife, or doing any other business 


* As an amusing contrast with the above, we cannot forbear citing the expressions with 
which Sir Henry Savile, a learned geometrician of the University of Oxford, commences 
and winds up his Prelections on the first eight propositions of Euclid (A. D. 1620.) We shall 
accompany them with a running commentary of Malebranche. The lecturer begins 
thus:—“ Consilium memn est, auditores, si vires et valetudo suffecerint, explicate defini- 
tiones etc. primi libri Elementorum, caetera post me venientibus relinquereand he concludes 
thus:—“Exsolvi per Dei gratiam, Domini auditores, promissum, liberavi Mem meam, ex- 
plicavi pro modulo meo definitiones, petitiones, communes sententias, et octo priores pro- 
positiones Elementorum Euclidis. Hie annis fessus cyclos artemque repono. Succedent 
in hoc munus alii fortasse magis vegeto corpore et vivido ingenio.”-“A man of but mo¬ 

derate abilities would scarcely require an hour to learn by himself, the definitions, postu- 
lata, axioms, and the eight first propositions of Euclid: and here we have an author who 
speaks of this undertaking, as if it was something very great and very difficult. He is afraid 
that health and strength may fail him: Si vires et valetudo suffecerint.. He leaves to his 
successors to push these matters: ccetera post me venientibus relinquere. He thanks God 
that, by his peculiar “ grace,” he had executed his promise, and executed it, too, according 
to his capacity : exsolvi per Dei gratiam, promissum, liberavi Jidem meam, explicavi pro modulo 
meo. What? The squaring of the circle ? the duplication of the cube? This great man 
has explained the definitions, the postulata, the axioms, and the eight first propositions of 
the first book of the Elements of Euclid. Perhaps among his successors may be found 
persons who shall be blessed with more health and vigour, to prosecute this fine under¬ 
taking: Succedent in hoc munus alii, Fortasse magis vegeto corpore et vivido ingenio. But 
as for himself, the toil-worn lecturer, it is time that he should repose : hie annis fessus cyclos 
artemque reponoS*—Recherche de la Verite. , 


13 




10 


PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


of secondary importance which a man may happen to take up for want of better 
employment. Yet, still we do not wish that any person should have too much 
of the air of the author about him, or that he should be always “ plunged to 
the hilt in venerable tomes.” We do not wish him, at one time, to be sunk into 
the abysses of abstraction, and at another, mounted upon the tripod of inspira¬ 
tion, alternately moping like an idiot, or frenzied like a madman, and “ hiecup- 
ing Greek like a helot.” There must be a medium—there must be moderation 
—there must be the juste milieu in this as well as in politics. On the other 
hand, we do not deny that one person may, through habitual practice, write 
with a greater degree of facility than another, just in the same manner as 

“Those move easiest who have learned to dance 

but, after all, there is no easy writing which is worth reading, and it is sheer 
affectation in any writer to pretend that it is easy. Yet if one writer chooses 
to bring out his works in a high state of finish, and another chooses not, we do 
not know that we can give the latter credit for any thing but impudence, much 
less for a beau ideal of perfection, which he has not attained. But all this, 
it appears, must be settled by a bravado,—and what does it amount to ? Sup¬ 
pose a person should stand on one leg, like the poet mentioned by Horace, and 
should strike off six hundred lines at a breathing,—what then ? It perhaps 
might damp the enthusiasm of such a person, to tell him that he is advancing 
neither his own interests nor the interests of science, by the determination of a 
problem of which Gregory has made no mention, namely, the velocity with 
which 


“ Nonsense, precipitate like running lead, 

Can slip through cracks and zigzags of the head!” 

Now to business. There is a species of humility which appears to us to be 
merely vanity in disguise, assailing you under false colours, like a boatman 
rowing oneway and looking another; dark and enigmatical to the ignorant j 
like an Egyptian hieroglyphic, yet so intelligible to all others, that they who 
“ run may read.” Persons of this stamp stun you so much with their endless 
prating about their petty weaknesses and infirmities, “ about them and about 
them,” until you cannot help perceiving that they are making a merit of the 
matter, and imagine themselves to be in the same predicament as the ladies :— 

—-“ The dear errato-column 

Is far the prettiest in the volume.” 

All this looks amiable enough in the ladies, because it is not artificial—because 
it reposes upon the weakness of their character—because it is simple, unaffected 
nature, and not “ nature sitting for her picture.” As to “ stooping to conquer,” 
it is all well enough according to the original application of the idea; but 
those who wish to introduce it into authorship, know not “ what manner of 



PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


11 


spirit they are of,”—forgetting that no man ought to stoop unless to tie his shoe¬ 
strings. To downright egotism or to downright vanity, we have no objections ; 
for after all, it is but the love of honourable fame, upon the wrong scent, for¬ 
sooth, yet opening up to us the cheering prospect of a “ clear stage and no 
favour.” A truce, therefore, to the thorough-going egotist; but it really 
“ passes all understanding,” that any person should be so enervated in intel¬ 
lect—so emasculated in character, as to descend upon the literary arena, 
either tortured into all the agonies of affectation, or swooning into a feminine 
languor,* blessing his stars for his own loveliness, and looking as demure and 
precise as 


“ Mrs. Trimmer’s books on education, 

Or like Miss Edgeworth stepping into covers.” 

“ No, sir (said the great moralist), if a man will give way to his feelings, there 
is no saying whither they will lead him;” for if such folly be once allowed to 
commence, there can be no reason given why it should ever terminate. Byron, 
even in the “ sweet hour of prime,” wished that he might die of a consumption, 
not because he thought that it was a mode of dying easier than many other 
modes—not because he thought that it would afford him some timely warning 
before the “ silver cord was loosed, or the golden bowl broken,” but because the 
ladies would say, how pale and interesting Byron looks! But error of feeling 
may also lead us into errors of conduct. Julia, in this respect, strikes us as a 
fine instance of the apologetic. She felt that her heart was flying off at a tan¬ 
gent from her husband Alphonso, and that its “ worship ” was flickering to¬ 
wards another. She was just treading the delicate boundary that separates 
vice from virtue—struggling indeed to maintain the balance of power betwixt 
her passions and her reason ; yet evidently inclining to the “downward trem¬ 
ble,” and hunting after such apologies and extenuations as might enable her 
to conclude a treaty of peace with her own conscience. But what a consolation 
did it administer to her, w r hen from the abysm of her meditations she fished up 
the agreeable distinction, that there was not only a species of vulgar love, but 

“ Love immaculate, perfect and divine ! 

And love platonic—‘just such love as mine.’” 

“ All self-censure ("says the great moralist) is but self-praise in disguise, for 
it only shews how much a man can spare,” and still be as good as his neigh¬ 
bours. When authors deal so largely in the “ untoward events,” which have 


* “ That boy will be the death of us.” For whenever we think upon the subject, it recalls 
to our mind the strait-laced dandy in Bond-Street, who was running and whispering after 
Jehu, who still drove ou as furiously as if his “ name was never heard.” 

“Bear him on your wings, ye balmy breezes!” 

For the dear creature would never have got an earthly conveyance, had not a jolly tar step¬ 
ped in to relieve his vanity as well as his distress, by lifting up his voice “ on high,” and vo¬ 
ciferating: “ Hollo! coachey, here’s something wants ye!” 



12 


PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


impeded the development of their genius, there is very little difficulty in di¬ 
vining what they are after. Their intention is not so much to apologize for the 
defects of present performances; but they wish to plunge you into the region of 
contingency, and to give you a vague and indefinite idea of what they could 
have done if circumstances had been more favourable, by shewing you what 
they have done in spite of wind and weather. 

The modifications, which this reptile vanity may assume in the “various 
branches” of authorship, will vary according to individual circumstances and 
individual caprice; it takes upon itself a thousand forms, and in all is pleasing. 
One author comes forward and tells you in his preface, with as much gravity as 
confidence, that he has had no education. This is a tremendous apology ; 
it comes upon you like a thunderclap ; you feel that your patience is carried by 
storm; for he might as well have told you that he was without sense, as without 
education. At all events, he might have spared himself the declaration, for 
the very perusal of his compositions would have convinced you that “ nature’s 
journeyman had made him, and not made him well.” But this is not the drift 
of the business, 

“O, no ! we never mention it 

for the whole secret of the matter is, that the author is very self-complacent 
upon the subject—that he threw forward the declaration as a bravado rather 
than an apology, in order to shew you that he could write as well without edu¬ 
cation as other persons could with it. Another comes forward and tells you, 
that he is a beardless youth, and that he is, therefore, contending at fearful 
odds, when brought out upon the same arena with your veteran authors, men of 
established reputation, and blanched with years. Come forward, ingenuous 
youth ! But is there not a little vanity mixed up with your modesty; and do 
you not think, from the very bottom of your soul, that, young as you are, you 
have got profitable things to say, and can make even elderly gentlemen shake 
their heads at your wisdom? But, after all, the apology goes for nothing; for 
had there only been an orthodox quantity of patience, time would have done its 
work, and the child would have grown older. Another author tells you, that if he 
has failed in his undertaking, he has failed through want of talent, and not 
through want of will. “ Quod potui, feci’’ Nay, this is the unkindest cut of 
all! verily, this outherodeth Herod; it is certainly giving a joke the “ long 
trot:”— 


“ The force of dulness could no farther go ” 

If a man has written a book that is foolish and stupid, why should he trumpet 
it forth ex cathedra, and tell us, that it is foolish and stupid ? Why should he 
take the initiative of the public judgment? Is he afraid that it will not be dis¬ 
covered in due season, or that men of his own calibre will never discover it at all, 
unless a spirit reveal it to them ? Have we the same need of negative signs in 


PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


13 


general literature, as we have in algebra ? “ Is not the absence of merit suffi¬ 

cient of itself to shew that it is wanting ?” But it is the merit as well as the 
misfortune of some persons, that they never deal in accurate reasoning, unless 
when they cannot foresee its results, and that their “ genius never comes in con¬ 
tact either with nature or truth, unless at salient points.” Suppose an author 
could convince you that his book was not worth reading, you will easily draw 
the conclusion, that it was not worth buying, and that, if it was not worth buy¬ 
ing, he who oflers it for sale, has but feeble pretensions to moral honesty. It is 
really pitiable that any person should write an inaugural dissertation to the 
public, and conduct it in such a bungling fashion as to prove that he was bom 
a fool and could not help it, and by a little spicing of vanity and a little officious¬ 
ness of friends, he became a knave and acquired a propensity for picking pockets. 

In the train of these follow the original dealers in condescension , who 
have a great desire to palm themselves upon the world, as if they were 
obliged to temper down the ardour of their genius in order to bring themselves 
to a level with the capacity of the age. They always wish to appear to you as 
if they had some great quantity of talent in reserve—that they could instruct 
the age in some other manner, if the age was not too ignorant to be instructed, 
but that they are prevented from writing sense by several considerations. Now, 
there is no doubt that a man may find himself in this condition, just in the 
same manner as he may find himself in any other condition ; but, as it is not 
every person who ought to give himself airs, so it is not every writer who ought 
to imagine himself to be in such a condition. To undertake to write for the 
ignorant is, indeed, an undertaking sufficiently laudable ; but on the part of 
many, who have undertaken it, to imagine that they were ever qualified to write 
for any others would, indeed, be an assumption altogether gratuitous. Whe- 

i / 

ther knowledge ought to be popularized or not, we hope will never be made a 
matter of question; but when men, who undertake to popularize it, throw a 
patronizing air and the parade of condescension around attempts at author¬ 
ship, 'which have only served to render them ridiculous, we cannot away with it! 

It almost moves the natural moderation of one’s temper—it almost disturbs the 
calmness of one’s philosophy to reflect that such observations should proceed 
from men whose genius never rose above the freezing point, and who have been 
dealing out their “ foolishness and flannel” as regularly as “ seed time and har¬ 
vest!” Cannot these persons perceive the connexion betwixt causes and effects, 
or, if a plain matter of fact be proposed to their understandings, will the fool’s 
exclamation ever be upon their tongue,—“who would have thought it?” If the 
taste of the present age be vitiated, let it be recollected that the exertions 
of them and such as them, would be sufficient to vitiate the taste of any 
age ; for, in addition to an awkwardness of style and an indelicacy of tact, have 
they not defiled it with all manner of abominations, with deplorable cant and 
blundering ignorance, with rickety sentmientalism and maudlin prosaics ? If 
these persons would but condescend to indulge the natural bent of their genius, 


14 


PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


in writing downright nonsense, even downright nonsense would be “something 
bearable compared to this iniquity !” They have certainly their reward.—They 
deal with a generation of their own, children of a larger growth, who have a 
natural fondness for going in leading strings, and who imagine that knowledge 
will, somehow or other, descend upon us like the dew from heaven, or spring up 
in our minds like the grass of the field. If nothing will content the nations in 
the political world but a “new heaven and a new earth, 1 ” then let the boulc-. 
versement go on, and may the men of the movement extend their operations to 
the republic of letters!* An ignorant age is certainly an object of pity, but an 
age that is not ignorant ought not to be insulted. We would just hint to those 
who deal in pity, that pity may be wasted just in the same manner as auy other 
commodity ; and that those who waste pity, just in the same manner as those 
who waste any other Commodity may, perhaps, stand in need of it themselves. 

6. 7’o conclude with the present volume. We do not pretend to be prophets, 
yet we feel the spirit of prophecy coming upon us. We do not intend, like 
Irving, to speak in an unknown language, nor like Perceval, to deal out a re¬ 
velation. As we are neither abracadabara nor miracle-mongers , we shall 
proceed in the humble path of investigation, and content ourselves with its re¬ 
sults. Lord Bacon has laid it down as one of his fundamental axioms, that 
all solid philosophy must be based upon experience, and, consequently, if we 
apply this axiom to the affairs of common life, he who knows most of the past 
will see the farthest into the future. Now, though we do not pretend to know 
any more, either of the past or the future, than any other person who knows as 
much, yet we will venture to predict that this book will be sold, like all other 
books, to all persons who are willing to purchase it—that it will be read, like 

i a v ,v.y*>ro» 

all other books, by all persons who think it worth their while to read it, and 
that it will be understood, like all other books, by all persons who are capable 
of understanding it.f Now there is no mystery about such a prediction as this ; 


* “ The press, in these times, has become so active; literature—what is still called litera¬ 
ture—has so dilated in volume and diminished in density, that the very Reviewer feels at 
a nonplus, and has ceased to review. Why thoughtfully examine what was written without 
thought, or note faults and merits, where there is neither fault nor merit? From a nonentity 
embodied with innocent deception, in foolscap and printer’s ink, and named book; from the 
common wind of talk, even when it is conserved by such mechanism, for days, in the shape 
of froth,—how shall the hapless Reviewer filter aught in that once so profitable a colander of 
his ? He has ceased, as we said, to attempt the impossible—cannot review but only discourse; 
he dismisses his too unproductive author, generally with civil words, not to quarrel needless¬ 
ly with a fellow-creature; and must try, as he best may, to grind from his own poor garner. 
Authors long looked with an evil envious eye on the Reviewer, and strove often to blow out 
his light, which only burnt the clearer for such blasts; but now, cunningly altering their tac¬ 
tics, they have extinguished it by want of oil .”—Edinburgh Review. No. 105. p. 155. 

+ It is very laughable to observe of what importance some persons consider themselves to be 
to the world. We recollect reading a certain author who declared in his preface, that if the 
public would not take more notice of his productions than they had done, he would write no 
more madrigals and blank verseTo drop a speculation, when it proves to be a bad one, is 
to do nothing out of the ordinary way of business; but to menace the public with such aca- 
lamity is quite a different matterSuppose he had given over writing, what then ? To be 






PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


15 


to ascertain its truth or its falsehood, you need scarcely wait for its accomplish¬ 
ment, for it is based upon an experience equally permanent and universal. 
The sagacious reader may look grave, and the grave reader may smile; and 
perhaps both may tell us that we are merely uttering truisms. But let it be 
recollected, on the other hand, that it is the aim of all logic and of all philoso¬ 
phy to preserve us from falling into errors and contradictions. Call it 7voman’s 
reasoning , or what sort of reasoning you please, you will find that, take it all 
in all, woman’s reasoning is no despisable philosophy :— 

“’Tis so like sense, ’twill serve the turn as well.” 

She deals only in facts, and she thinks that the stubbornness of facts is suffi¬ 
ciently craggy to break her spirit against. To her there is no theory, no hypo¬ 
thesis, no rationale; for she cannot help imagining that the existence of a thing 
will always be a sufficient reason for its existence. Lady Morgan tells us, that 
woman is weak in her reason, but strong in her volition; and another person, 
who has not the same physiological pretensions as her ladyship, suggests to us, 
that this mode of reasoning may have been generated by the deficiency of the 
one and the superabundance of the other. Be it so. We are not solicitous 
about its origin, but merely its application ; and, if our judgment has any 
weight with the reader, we can assure him that it is superior to all syllogisms 
for it dispenses with its majors and minors, and all the technicalities and livery¬ 
men of the logicians. The more we examine it, the more we are satisfied with 
its merits; and certain we are, on the other hand, that it is the only mode of 
reasoning which, if applied to philosophy, will x’educe philosophy to something 
like comfortable dimensions.* 

“Now then for a little soft music.” Even the poet has said, 

“ I have not loved the world, nor the world me, 

But let us part fair foes - 


sure, some of his friends might have said, “the sun has set,” and others might have had the 
satisfaction of adding, “ but no night has followed.” Nay, suppose he had even died, what 
then ? True, we are told by the poets that, at the death of the first Crnsar, the Tiber rose 
above its banks, the brazen statues burst into a perspiration, and the German skies reeled 
and grew sick with the tumults of spectral armies; hut then it ought to be recollected that nature 
has discarded her antics, since she has become sobered by age! Whilst “ Sparta has many a 
worthier son than he, n there would have been no “ insuppliable interstice,” and no shock 
would have been felt in the empire, either of nature or of intellect. The world would have 
endeavoured to manage its matters without him,—schedule A and schedule B would have 
still gone on their way rejoicing, and lectures would still have been delivered to the disciples 
of Swing on the “polarization of light,” and the “ rigidity of cordage.” There would have 
been no eclipse—the comet would neither have come sooner nor later— the earth would not 
have ceased to spin upon its axle—“ man would have gone forth to his ordinary labours,” 
and woman would perhaps have condescended to cany on the world a little longer! 

* The following observation of the Anglais Jurisconsulte may be applied to philosophy. 
“ Open (says he) the old writers on Jurisprudence, the commentators on Justinian. What 
find you in these enormous collections ? Enough of citation, but little of argument! They 
all follow the same plan. A proposes some vague conjectures. B never fails to transcribe 




16 


PHILOSOPHY OF PREFACES. 


True, wc are cabined in a strange vessel, and bound upon a strange voyage, 
but why should we quarrel with our fellow-passengers ?—why should we not 
content ourselves with the enjoyment of “ wliat luck affords us, and with the 
hope of better?” The deeds of the generation that is passing away, have cer¬ 
tainly been marvellous :—we have not, in the language of the Athenian orator, 
lived the common life of mortals j we have been born for a wonder to posterity. 
We have been living in an age of transition,* when the experience of the old 
could not, by any process of intellectual alchemy, be converted into wisdom for 
the young, and when the only downright and acknowledged heresy has been 
that of “ sticking to the opinion of one’s grandfather.” The “ frbst of six 
thousand years” has broken up, and we are jostling each other in glorious colli¬ 
sion. But even in this transitionary state, enough has been practised upon the 
credulity of the multitude; for we have still had our “ money-changers,” who 
have crept into the temple of science, and have masked the meanness of their 
designs under the innocent pretence of “ selling doves.” But let no man grow 
faint-hearted upon the subject, for, sure as he lives, he shall see the Philistines 
whipped into decency for the benefit of the community. Those who are waiting 
“ in the slips,” and wish to be in at the death, shall not be disappointed. The 
guards are ready to be ordered in, and the house shall be cleared for the recep¬ 
tion of honest people. Quackery, even now, is in its sere and yellow leaf. It 
has had its little day of wonder, and the night of oblivion is closing around it. 
The fine braggart youth, who was lately so 

“ Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,” 

no longer talks of daggers—his big, manly voice, has already dwindled into 
“ childish treble”—superior civilization has fallen upon him like a blight, and 
he looks as simple and as insignificant as a turnip-head carved upon a mopstick. 


the conjectures of A before he adds some of his own. C cannot give you an opinion until 
he has collated every thing that has been said by A and B. Those who follow always charge 
themselves with every thing that has been said by their predecessors ; and the mass of erudi¬ 
tion goes on increasing like that of an avalanche!” (Euvres de Bentham. Vol. I. p. 483. 
Ed. Bruxelles. 

* “ Mind has, by its own native energy, won for itself its proper station in the alfairs of 
the external world. Not only has it given laws to nature, but it is now exerting ‘supreme 
dominion’ over the great heart of society. The spirit of the age is of its begetting—the 
march of intellect is but its goings-forth. The age of reason long ago commenced: in its 
infancy, by the mere novelty of its appearance, it startled the state ‘from its propriety.’ 
Then came its nonage—the period between puberty and manhood, during which its character 
was felt to be doubtful, as at such season character always is. But the fixed time awaited 
it, ‘ the inevitable years advanced, and its manhood appeared in the attributes of resolution. 
Such is the attitude which it has now assumed—the free daring of its mien is not to be 
cowed. It wakes, glorious in its strength, £fs the sun when he rises like a giant rejoicing 
to run his course. But shall its setting come also at last? Nay, what has mind to do with 
rising and setting, or with day and night? Chance and change approach not the pure 
element which it inhabiteth. Time is but the motion of its thoughts, and space only the in¬ 
tuition of its feelings. Let but its fiat be uttered, and the universe shall shake to its founda¬ 
tions—or anew world start from the ruins of the old.”— Fraser’s Magazine. No. XIX. 

p. 120. 




DISSERTATION I. 

ON KNOWLEDGE. 


1. The natural dormancy o f the human faculties. 2. The influ¬ 
ence of association upon the intellectual character. 3. The 
gradual development of philosophy and science. 

1. Lord Bacon somewhere observes in his aphoristic manner 
of speaking, that “ heroic desires contribute to health.” The 
expression, though concise, appears to be modelled with great 
precision, and to be pregnant with meaning; and one upon 
which we may venture to ground speculations of more than 
ordinary interest. 

But with whatever degree of propriety it may be applied to 
our physical constitution, the propriety is still more palpable, 
when it is extended to our intellectual. The dictates of nature, 
which are unerring, and the calls of appetite, which are univer¬ 
sal, and can never be mistaken, are stimulants powerful enough 
to incite us to procure those indispensable necessaries of life, 
“ queis dolet natura negatis,” which are a sufficient guarantee for 
the general “ well-going ” of the system. Hunger has nothing to 
do with the slow reasonings of the philosopher, or the senseless 
apathy of the stoic. The demand is made, and it must be paid 
in specie. Our physical wants are of too imperious a nature, 
to be encountered upon any other principles however subtle or 
refined. 

But when we turn our eyes and proceed to view man in his 
intellectual phasis, the scene appears to be totally reversed. 
Whatever there may be in other respects, yet in this, there is 
not the least shadow of analogy betwixt our physical and intel- 

c. 



18 * 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


lectual appetites. If we consider man, as left to himself and 
independent of any external stimulus; whatever philosophers 
may tell us of the self-moving principle within us, the “ divina 
particula aura ,” yet, as soon as we have taken an inventoiy of 
his corporeal wants, the rest of the map must be filled up much 
in the same manner as Plutarch tells us of the ancient geogra¬ 
phers, by “frozen seas, continents of sand, vast wildernesses;” 
or as our own poet would express it, “ a boundless contiguity of 
shade.” 

We cannot even say, that in such a condition as the present 
to which we are alluding, the aversion to intellectual investiga¬ 
tion rises in proportion to the wants of our should-be enquirer. 
Such a state as this would imply that the slumbers of his facul¬ 
ties had been already broken—that the invigorating and restless 
spirit of knowledge had already been breathed into his quiescent, 
though animated frame—and that the “ ethereal judgment” had 
already begun to exert its “ generalizing faculty,” and operate 
upon the universe within and around it “ as the basis of induc¬ 
tive knowledge.” Such a gradual opening of the faculties, in 
process of time, might lead our inquirer to the highest acqui¬ 
sitions of science, or the most refined arts of civilized society. 
But this is not the state of man, as he proceeds from the hand 
of nature. He feels no interest in the abstract truths of philo¬ 
sophy. “The two-legged animal (says Dr. Reid), that eats of 
nature's dainties what his taste or appetite craves, and satisfies 
his thirst at the crystal fountain, who propagates his kind as 
occasion and lust prompt, repels injuries, and takes alternate 
labour and repose, is, like a tree in the forest, purely of nature’s 
growth. But this same savage has within him the seeds of the 
logician, the man of taste and breeding, the orator, the states¬ 
man, the man of virtue, and the saint; which seeds, though 
planted in his mind by nature, yet, through want of culture and 
exercise, must lie for ever buried, and be hardly perceivable by 
himself or by others .” 1 And yet, this is one of those intellectual 
beings whom the Almighty has “ introduced into the universe 


i Inquiry into the Human Mind. Introduction, page 7. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


19 


that surrounds him, not only to behold his works, but to be an 
announcer and interpreter of the wonders which he sees and 
adores ,” 1 2 Scenes that bear the indelible impress of wisdom, 
power, and benevolence, every-where meet his eye. 

“ A million torches lighted by his hand, 

Wander unwearied through the blue abyss; 

They own his power, accomplish his command, 

All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss: 

What shall we call them, piles of crystal light, 

A glorious company of golden streams, 

Lamps of celestial ether burning bright, 

Suns lighting systems with their joyous beams.” 2 

Yet, amidst all this "furniture of suns and stars and systems 
rolling through the blue abyss,” amidst all the variegated scen¬ 
ery and fascinating charms of nature, the being, to whom they 
were intended to minister pleasure and instruction, remains 
insensible to their use, and an “ alien in his native land.” And 
that this is no illusive phantom, or dream of a disordered ima¬ 
gination, we have nothing to do but open our eyes and ears, 
and listen to the unvarnished tales of our enterprising travellers. 
We shall then find, that the speculations of Christian philoso¬ 
phers, as well as infidels, concerning the formation of language, 
gradual civilization, and the real, though imperceptible, pro¬ 
gress of arts and science, amongst a nation, barbarous, and una¬ 
wakened from their intellectual torpor, are but mere chimeras, 
and have not a single solitary instance upon which to rest their 
weight. It is here that time makes no alteration or improve¬ 
ment. It only rivets the chain faster upon the captive, and 
gives a deeper colouring to the picture. Take, for instance, 
the Negro. Ages have passed away—the mightiest empires 
have been annihilated; and yet whilst ages have “kept their 
vigils ” over the rising and the mighty journeyings of the sun of 
science in other regions, they have registered no acquisitions of 
his, no steps of progress or advancement in his intellectual ca¬ 
reer. Nay! so far is he degraded with respect to his mental 


1 Dissertat. ab. Arrian, collect, lib. i. Cap. vi. Ed. Upton. 

2 From the Russian of Derzhavin, translated by Bowring. 







20 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


faculties, that the ‘"minute philosophers of the present age, who 
link morality along with the contour of the countenance, who 
measure the understanding and capacity for salvation by a scale 
of inches and the acuteness of angles,” have banished him from 
the hopes, the destiny, the rank, and the family of man. Yet, here 
intellectual culture only is wanting. He can boast of an “ an¬ 
cestry as bright as our own.” He is lineally descended from 
those who were once the “mighty of the earth”—who gave sci¬ 
ence and the elements of government to Greece and Rome—and 
who first lighted that intellectual torch, which has never yet 
been quenched amidst all the desolating tyranny of conquest, 
the irruptions of barbarians, and the convulsions of states. The 
soil only wants breaking up. The seeds of knowledge must be 
sown, and then it will no longer be said, that we are “giving to 
the hand that cannot grasp—that we are endeavouring to imprint 
the indelible impression on the tide-washed sand, or to rear the 
pillars of knowledge upon the almost-vacuum.” “ We may then 
dive into that mine from whence we were often told that no 
valuable ore, no precious jewel, could be extracted—and we may 
bring up the gem of an immortal spirit, flashing with the light 
of intellect, and glowing with the hues of Christian graces .” 1 

From the preliminary course of argument, which has hitherto 
been pursued, the subject will naturally divide itself into two 
branches, equally important. 

First. The latent energies of the mind must be aroused from 
their intellectual torpor, in order that they may take an interest 
in the abstract truths of philosophic investigation. 

Secondly. Those truths, for the discovery of which the human 
mind has been found adequate, however ample their range may 
be, must be brought in review before the understanding. 

In other words, the mind must not only act, but be acted up¬ 
on. If the objects receive a nicer accuracy of form, or a finer 
brilliancy of tint, from the influence which is exerted upon them 
by the intellect—the mind at the same time must feel an invi- 
goration of its faculties and an enlargement of its boundaries, 


I Watson, on the Religious Instruction of Slaves, 







LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


21 


from the amplitude and variety of the objects which are present¬ 
ed to its notice. At the same time that we are occupied in 
purging away those films by which the visual ray is either dark¬ 
ened or intercepted, we must bestow equal attention upon 
lengthening the prospect and widening the horizon; by which 
means an harmonious union will be effected, and light and heat 
will be reflected from the faculty to the object, and from the 
object to the faculty.—They will 

“Lend each to each a double charm 
Like pearls upon an Ethiop’s arm.’’ 

The former of these has been already partially glanced at, 
and may again claim our attention in some future stage of our 
inquiries. The latter is the point in hand, to which we shall 
devote our exclusive attention. 

2. Through the influence of an obvious delusion, it perhaps 
is not sufficiently estimated to what extent our intellectual facul¬ 
ties are liable to be modified by the external objects and circum¬ 
stances with which they happen to be surrounded and conver¬ 
sant. Dr. Young well observes 

“An object ever pressing dims the sight.” 

Or as he elsewhere tells us concerning himself, in his antithetical 
method of speaking, 

“I’ve been so long remembered, Pm forgot.” 

We are all perfectly aware of the power which association 
is capable of exerting upon the intellectual, as well as the moral, 
character. In vain is it to say, that we cannot feel it sensibly. 
Its influence, though for the most part the connexion is imper¬ 
ceptible, yet is far from not being real: and after it has once 
undergone a gradual formation, and been interwoven into the 
stamina of our constitution, by length of time and frequency of 
repetition, it operates with the rapidity and energy of an instinct. 
It is thus, that the mind receives a tincture from every object, 
with which it is voluntarily conversant. We can survey no ob¬ 
ject, whether material or spiritual, without, as Lord Bacon 
observes, “bringing back the smoke and tarnish of the furnace.” 
“We often (says the same writer) think that we are invested 


00 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


with a command over language; but it oftener happens, tliat 
language has a command over us.” The influence of intellec¬ 
tual contemplation, has, in this respect, been compared to that of 
light, which it is impossible to approach, without deriving from 
it some faint colouring, even though we should not sit in the very 
sunshine; or, that of precious odours, amid which we cannot 
long remain, without bearing away with us some portion of the 
fragrance. “ Ea enim philosophise vis est, ut non solum studentes , 
sed etiam conversantes juvet. Qui in solem venit, licet non in hoc 
venerit , colorabitur; qui in unguentaria taberna resederunt , et 
paulo diutius commorati sunt, odorem secum loci ferunt; et qui 
apud philosophiam fuerunt, traxerint aliquid necesse est , quod pro- 
desset etiam negligentibus.” 1 

These observations may serve as a scaffolding upon which we 
may venture to build some further inferences. If the mind 
along with the phenomena which it successively exhibits, is so 
liable to be affected by those external circumstances, w ith which 
it happens to come in collision—if, to the degree, to which w r e 
have adverted, it is so susceptible of being moulded by the va¬ 
riety of objects which are continually passing in review before 
it—it is certainly an important topic of inquiry, what are those 
various branches of religious, moral and intellectual knowledge, 
which are best adapted to call forth the spirit of enterprise,— 
and which, while they contribute to the expansion of the intel¬ 
lect, may at the same time exert a salutary and benign influence 
on the disposition of the heart? Let the arena, provided the 
tenure be legal, be but wide enough—let the temple of science, 
as the ancients have already determined its site, be but built 
upon an eminence; and while “Alps o’er Alps” are continually 
presenting themselves to the keener glance and the widening 
view of the literary traveller, let the “beacon” be lighted to 
guide his steps, and the “hederee prcemia doctarum frontium” be 
presented full in view, to crown him at the conquest. What 
the poet tells us of the moral world, holds equally true with re¬ 
spect to the intellectual. “Narrow views betray to misery.” 


iSenecaEp. 108— Brown’s Philosophy of the Human Mind. Vol. 1. p. 59. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


23 


\\ e are, however, aware of the truth and importance of the 
maxim, that we must weigh well “quid valeant ferre humeri?” 
and that “the speed of the rider must be limited by the power 
of the horse.” The observation however is applicable only to 
those who attempt too much at once, who go out of their depth 
before they have learned to swim, and who, instead of worship¬ 
ping in the vestibule, without any preliminary preparations, wish 
at once to be enthroned in the chair of the professor. If the 
application be extended any farther than this, we can only view 
it with suspicion, as a subterfuge for literary idleness. “ Many 
(says Seneca) would have arrived at the temple of knowledge, 
if they had not thought themselves to have been there already.” 
Nothing, therefore, can be more useful to the student, than to 
feel the weight of the maxim —“labor omnia vincit” Let him 
cast his view, “broad and unrestrained,” over the unbounded 
prospect before him. Let the literary race-course be but long 
enough, and then there is some probability that he will acquire 
“vires eundo ” and turn the goal with “burning wheels.” “Give 
thy mind sea-room,” says the poet; and after we have acquired 
the large views and “heroic desires” alluded to by Bacon, we 
shall soon wish to explore those regions, “where minds of the 
first magnitude may launch, and grasp at infinite.” 1 

“ Thus at length 

Endowed with all that nature can bestow. 

The child of fancy oft in silence bends 

O’er these mixed treasures of his pregnant breast, 

With conscious pride. From them he oft resolves 
To frame he knows not what excelling things, 

And win he knows not what sublime reward 
Of praise and wonder. By degrees the mind 
Feels her young nerves dilate:—the plastic powers 
Labour for action:—blind emotions heave 
His bosom:—and with loveliest frenzy caught, 

From earth to heaven he rolls his daring eye, 

From heaven to earth. Anon ten thousand shapes 
Like spectres trooping to the wizard’s call, 

Flit swift before him. From the womb of earth, 

From ocean’s bed they come:—the eternal heavens 
Disclose their splendours, and the dark abyss 
Pours out her births unknown.” 2 

i “altius ibunt, qui ad summa nituntur.” Quintil. Lib. 1. 

2 Akenside’s Pleasures of the Imagination. Book iii. 



24 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


3. Though the Almighty in his wisdom has fixed barriers, 
which bid defiance to the most gigantic intellect, and say “hi¬ 
therto shalt thou go, and no farther,” yet it is pleasing to the 
philosophic inquirer, to contemplate the vast extent of the ho¬ 
rizon which unfolds itself to his view. And here we may ob¬ 
serve the wonderful arrangement of providence. Truth has 
never yet deigned to unveil herself in all her symmetry. Mor¬ 
tal eye has never yet gazed upon her in her full proportions. 
The curtain is still undrawn, and many a feature of loveliness 
is concealed behind the screen. Though she has been courted 
by succeeding sages, and her favours have been distributed by 
a liberal and impartial hand, she has still abundance in store. 
Though we have won continents of terra firma from the “ vasty 
deep,” yet there still remains a boundless expanse of ocean. 

“ O what precious things there be, 

Shrin’d and sepulchred in thee! 

Gems and gold from every eye 
Hid within thy bosom lie! 

Many a treasure-laden bark 
Rests within thy caverns dark! 

Giant-secrets of thy breast 
With their thousand isles of rest, 

With their brave and beauteous forms 
Undisturb’d beneath thy storms.” i 

The splendid discoveries of modern philosophy shew that the 
mine is still unexhausted, and serve to administer fresh vigour 
to the adventurous spirit of restless investigation. Age after' 
age has poured into the field herliterary heroes, “fresh from the 
schools of glory”—yet, still the contest is carried on with una¬ 
bated and increasing ardour, and laurels are still growing 
upon the hill of Parnassus, and in the groves of Academus, to 
deck the brows of the conqueror. The disciple of Ptolemy 
might amuse himself with the eccentrics and epicycles of his 
wayward instructor—the Pythagorean sage might talk about 
the “harmony of the spheres,” and fancy “that their music 
was continually bursting upon the senses of unearthly beings; ” 
but it was not for them to explain these celestial mysteries— 


1 Literary Souvenir. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


25 


that task was reserved for a “monstrum perfectionis,” a “super¬ 
human genius” of another age, and of another clime. 

“ Have ye not listened while he bound the suns 
And planets to their spheres l the unequal task 
Of human kind till then. Oft had they roll’d 
O’er erring 1 man the year, and oft disgraced 
The pride of schools.” i 

But we need not allude to those great efforts of human geni¬ 
us which form a kind of era in the history of the human mind. 
The true philosopher will readily admit, that no discovery, how¬ 
ever simple, can ever be deemed insignificant, because no man 
can tell how extensive its application may be; for no man is 
sufficiently acquainted with the nature and properties of exist¬ 
ing substances. It is thus that the very elements of every sci¬ 
ence, gather round themselves a degree of mysterious dignity, 
inasmuch as the mind vainly labours to comprehend the vast¬ 
ness of the acquisitions to which they have already conducted us, 
and it would be impossible for us to predict what may be the 
paths of glory into which they may lead inquirers in future ages. 

“ How many positions are there (says the eloquent Earl of 
Moira), which form the basis of every day’s reflection,—the 
matter for the ordinary operation of our minds, which were toiled 
after perhaps for ages, before they were seized and rendered com¬ 
prehensible? How many subjects are there which we ourselves 
have grasped at, as if we saw them floating in an atmosphere 
just above us, and found the arm of our intellect but just too short 
to reach them ? And then comes an happier genius, who in a 
fortunate moment and from some vantage-ground, arrests the 
meteor in its flight and grasps the floating phantom;—drags 
it from the skies to the earth;—condenses that which was but an 
impalpable coruscation of spirit;—fetters that which was but 
the lightning glance of thought, and having so mastered it, be¬ 
stows it as a perpetual possession and heritage on mankind.” 


1 Thompson’s Poem on the death of Newton. 

D 



26 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


DISSERTATION II. 

ON THE IMMATERIALITY OF THE SOUL. 

SECT. I. 

1 . The necessity of adhering to strictness of definition, with respect 
to matter and spirit. 2. The interesting nature and impor¬ 
tance of the inquiry, urged from the universality of the men¬ 
tal faculties—the connexion of an immaterial principle with 
a future state, and its greatness, with respect to its own in¬ 
trinsic energies, and the wonders ivhicli it has achieved. 
3. Intelligence not a property of matter in its unorganized 
state, or more simple combinations. 4. A statement of the 
organic changes, which immediately precede sensation. 
5. The mysterious connexion of matter and spirit favourable 
for the admission of hypotheses and the interposition of me¬ 
chanical processes. 

1. The transition from the preceding dissertation to the subject 
of the present, is natural and easy. If we take any interest in 
reflecting upon the capacities of a rational being—capacities 
which for any thing that we know to the contrary, will be con¬ 
tinually approximating to the Infinite in perfection; the interest 
will certainly not be abated, when we turn round and inquire 
into the nature of that agent, which is endowed with capacities 
so wonderful and so dignified. 

It will be of singular utility to keep constantly in view, the 
precise state of the question. In the present discussion, the on¬ 
ly terms with which we have any concern, are matter and spi¬ 
rit. We are furnished with no others either by the ordinary 
use of language, or the more subtle refinements of philosophic 
nomenclature. Matter includes every thing that is either visible 
or tangible; and whatever we can conceive as directly opposed 
to matter in its qualities and attributes, that is spiritual. These 
two terms comprehend every thing that exists, and grasp at once 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


27 


the whole range of intellectual and physical inquiry. Let the 
materialist, therefore, talk ever so eloquently—let him try ever 
so eagerly to dazzle our eyes, and to clear his theory of the diffi¬ 
culties with which it is attended, by interposing the most subtle 
mechanism, and the most elaborate processes, we must still in¬ 
form him, that the sublimity of his conceptions is encumbered 
with the grossness of matter. If we cannot even permit Milton, 
without giving the most unwarrantable indulgence to poetic 
license, to talk about “ matter being sublimated to mind,”* no 
careless language of such a cast as this can be allowed in the 
sober and accurate deductions of philosophy. We can fix no 
other boundary-lines, but those of light and shade. The sun 
must set, and bid a final adieu to the material hemisphere, be¬ 
fore he can dawn upon the intellectual. Those who think that 
conciliation is so desirable—a “ consummation so devoutly to be 
wished for,”—will here be able to find no middle-ground which 
they can either securely trust, or legally occupy. The advocate 
for the existence of a spiritual substance in man, after he has 
once thrown down his “ glove of mail,” can never honourably 
resume it, until his adversary acknowledge, that, that which has 
conducted him through the perversion of language and the la¬ 
byrinths of sophistry, is a being of “subtler essence than the 
trodden clod.” 

2 . So long as we consider the present point as a matter of 
pure philosophy, our arguments can only be drawn from the 
nature of those faculties which an intellectual and rational agent 
is every moment calling into exertion. The immaterialist and 
his opponent, the sceptic and the believer, here meet upon 
the same ground. At whatever different conclusions they may 
arrive, the data are still the same. There may be a “mystery 
of causes,” but there is still a “revelation of facts.” However 
differently they may be accounted for, the phenomena still exist. 
There may be a great variety with respect to the strength and 
vigour which different capacities are capable of exhibiting,—yet 
still the original stamina of our mental constitution are suffich 


* See Appendix, Note 1 





28 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


ently universal in their extent, and uniform in their nature, that 
we may draw the boundary-line of demarcation betwixt an 
agent of this class, and that of any other. Whether, therefore, 
we ransre ourselves on the side of the advocates of the immate- 
riality of the soul, or on the opposite—we have still the same 
sensations,—the same birthright of reason, and the same “deep 
capacity of pleasure and pain.” 

Neither is the present subject to be looked upon as a specula¬ 
tion of an insulated character, and of trivial importance. As the 
immateriality of the soul is so intimately and indissolubly con¬ 
nected with its immortality —it may be justly considered as 
the basis of all religion, whether natural or revealed. If it can 
be fairly shewn, that thought is the result of organization, or the 
functions of any material system whatever—it will be very easy 
to shew, or rather, it will follow as a matter of consequence, that 
the existence of our rational faculties must depend upon the 
duration of that material system, and that they will be affected 
by the least disarrangement of its nicest adjustments. When, 
therefore, the functions of this system are annihilated, the power 
of thinking, which certain materialists tell us to be the result of 
these functions, must perish along with them. The modes can¬ 
not exist without the substance,—nor the functions without the 
agent. The present state of existence is no longer 

* * “ The bud of being, the dim dawn, 

The twilight of our day, the vestibule.” i 

We at once pluck the crown of immortality from the head of 
man,—contract his eternal career within the sphere of his earthly 
existence—the beatings of a feeble pulse—and, at the same time, 
cruelly deprive him of that influence which such a doctrine, con¬ 
nected as it is with a future state of rewards and punishments, 
is capable of exerting upon a moral and responsible agent. 

But not to insist upon reasons of this nature, weighty as they 
really are, the elevated character of our faculties, independent 
of any other consideration, is sufficient to invest our present 


i Young. 






LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


29 


inquiry with a due degree of importance. “The mind (says an 
accomplished metaphysician) furnishes, in itself, the sublim- 
est of all speculations, because it is the philosophy of the sub- 
limest of all created things. f There is but one object (says 
St. Augustine) greater than the soul, and that one is its Crea¬ 
tor. Nihil est potentius ilia creatura, qiue mens dicitur ration- 
alis , nihil est sublimius. Quicquid supra illam est jam creator est.’ 
When we consider the powers of the mind, even without refer¬ 
ence to the wonders which it has produced on earth, what room 
does man afford for astonishment and admiration! His senses, 
his memory, his reason, the past, the present, the future, the 
whole universe, and if the universe have any limits, even more 
than the whole universe, comprised in a single thought, and 
amid all these changes of feeling that succeed each other, in ra¬ 
pid and endless variety, a permanent and unchangeable dura¬ 
tion, compared with which the duration of external things is but 
the existence of a moment. 

‘ O what a patrimony is this! a being 
Of such inherent strength and majesty, 

Not worlds possest can raise it; worlds destroy’d 
Can’t injure; which holds on its glorious course 
When thine, O nature, ends! ’ i 

“ Such in dignity and grandeur is the mind, considered even 
abstractedly. But, when instead of considering the mind itself) 
we look to the wonders which it has performed— the cities— 
the cultivated plains, and all the varieties of that splendid scene 
to which the art of man has transformed the deserts and forests 
and rocks of original nature;—when we behold him not limiting 
the operations of his art to that earth to which he seemed con¬ 
fined, but bursting through the very elements, that appeared 
to encircle him as an insurmountable barrier, traversing the 
waves, struggling with the winds, and making their very oppo¬ 
sition subservient to his course;—when we look to the still greater 
transformations that he has wrought in the moral scene, and 
compare with the miseries of barbarous life, the tranquillity and 


i Young. 






30 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


security of a well-ordered state;—when we see, under the influ¬ 
ence of legislative wisdom, innumerable multitudes obeying, in 
opposition to their strongest passions, the restraints of a power 
which they can scarcely perceive, and the crimes of a single in¬ 
dividual, marked and punished, at the distance of half the earth; 
is it possible for us to observe all these wonders, and yet not to 
feel some curiosity to examine the faculties by which they have 
been wrought,—some interest in a being so noble, that leads us 
to speculate on the future wonders which he may yet perform, 
and on the final destiny which awaits him ? This interest we 
should feel, though no common tie connected us with the object 
of our admiration; and we cannot surely admit that the object 
of our admiration is less interesting to us, or less sublime in na¬ 
ture, because the faculties which we admire, are those which we 
ourselves possess, and the wonders such as we are capable of 
achieving and surpassing.” 1 

Such are the wonderful nature and effects of those faculties 
which the materialist undertakes to account for, upon his own 
principles, and in conformity to the theory which he has adopt¬ 
ed. We shall therefore enter upon the discussion, and inquire 
whether the causes which he assigns, are adequate to the pro¬ 
duction of those phenomena which are co-extensive with the 
existence of rational and intelligent agents, and the subjects of 
universal experience. They are to be found wherever there is 
a human being, and civilization and education have served 
only to give an additional polish and lustre to the “gem” which 
previously existed in the hidden recesses of the mine, invested 
with all its native worth, though not with that brilliancy which 
it has afterwards acquired. The marble exists in the quarry, as 
Addison well observes, but it is only under the hand of a Phi¬ 
dias or a Praxiteles, that it emerges into the symmetrical pro¬ 
portions of a statue. 

3. To deny that intelligence is the property of every species 
and system of matter, however complex in its structure and or¬ 
ganization, would be to assume the point in dispute. This, 


1 Brown’s Philosophy of the Human Mind. Vol. 1. p. 75—7. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


31 


however, we may safely assert, as long as we consider matter in 
its simple and unorganized state. It surrounds us on all sides, 
and yet it gives us no indications of intelligence. “ Its essential 
properties are found to be extension, solidity, divisibility, mobi¬ 
lity, passiveness, &c. In all its forms and mutations, from the 
granite rock, to the yielding atmosphere and the rapid lightning, 
these essential properties are discovered; they take an infinite 
variety of accidental modes, but give no indication of intelli¬ 
gence, or approach to intelligence.” 1 

“ Of the various substances to which we give the name of 
matter, the properties are obvious to our senses; but we have 
not the smallest reason to suppose that any of them thinks. Of 
the power which we call mind, the properties are known only to 
us by consciousness; they are obvious to none of the senses: 
and we have not the slightest reason to suppose that it is either 
solid, extended, or divisible. 

“It has nothing in common witli that which we call matter; 
we therefore say that it is not matter, or in other words, it is 
immaterial. 

“ Now, the name is nothing; when we say it is immaterial, we 
merely say it is not matter; and when we say it is not matter, 
we merely say it is not solid, extended, or divisible: it has pro¬ 
perties essentially different from that class of substances to which 
we have given the name of matter, and has nothing in common 
with them. If any one should say that matter may think, it is 
not properly to be treated as unsound reasoning; it is a mere 
absurdity and contradiction in terms; for matter is only a name 
which we have given to something which is solid, extended, and 
divisible; and thinking is the property of another something, 
which we know only by that property, and which we have not 
the slightest reason to suppose is either solid, extended, or divi¬ 
sible. To say, then, that matter thinks, is to say, then, that that 
which is solid, extended, and divisible thinks; but that which 
thinks, is not solid, extended, and divisible; therefore, to say 
that matter thinks, is to say it is matter and not matter. But 


1 Watson’s Theological Institutes. Vol. 1. p. 382. 





32 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


the existence of a function, implies the existence of something to 
which that function belongs; thinking, therefore, is a function 
of something; it is not a function of matter, for it has nothing 
in common with it; therefore the being that thinks is not mat¬ 
ter, it is immaterial. 

“ These fundamental principles we hold to be the dictates of 
common sense, and upon every principle of sound reasoning, in¬ 
controvertible. But there are other views of the subject, which 
lead to the same result. If thinking be a property of matter, it 
must either be an essential property of it, or a power superadded 
to it in that state which we call living and organized matter. 

“The essential properties of matter are necessarily inherent in, 
and inseparable from, the whole mass, and every particular part 
into which that mass may be divided. 

“ If thinking, then, be an essential property of any particular 
mass of matter, it must also be a property of all the parts of that 
mass when it is divided. But this is contrary to fact, therefore, 
thinking is not an essential property of matter.” 1 

Applicable as this reasoning may be to matter in its most 
simple and unqualified forms—it is still equally so when we ad¬ 
vance higher, and consider it as existing in certain combina¬ 
tions. We may take, for instance, the case of vegetables. 
Life is attributed to them, as well as to the animal creation. 
“They have motion within themselves, and are capable of ab¬ 
sorption, secretion, nutrition, growth, and reproduction of their 
kind.” For the production of these results, they are furnished 
with a system of parts adapted to their own nature, and the ex¬ 
ternal relations with which they are surrounded. Here, then, is 
organization , and what is the result ? The plant grows, receives 
nourishment from foreign and adjacent substances, and at last 
perishes “attached to the soil which received its germ.” Yet, 
notwithstanding all this, it exhibits no indications of intelli¬ 
gence. Rude as the organization may be, yet we cannot per¬ 
ceive the rudest vestiges of thought. Here is no beginning—no 
tendency—nothing, in fact, that will allow us to indulge the 


1 Kaleidoscope. No. 33. 1821. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


33 


opinion, that were the matter a little more refined—the organ¬ 
ization a little more complex, they would at length issue in the 
development of the wonderful phenomena of mind. 

4. From the organic life of vegetables, we may proceed to that 
oi sentient and intelligent agents. And here, without either 
prejudging the argument or endeavouring to elude the weapons 
of our opponents, we may briefly sketch what we conceive to be 
the whole which our corporeal system has to do with sensation, 
reflection, etc. 

“ The great essential organ of all sensation, is the brain, with 
its appendages, particularly the nerves that issue from it to cer¬ 
tain organs, which are more strictly termed the organs of sense; 
as it is there the immediate objects, the external causes of sen¬ 
sation, the particles of light for example in vision, or of odour in 
smell, arrive and come, as it were, into contact with the sensorial 
substance. * * * The nervous matter, however, considered sepa¬ 
rately from the coats in which it is enveloped, is of the same 
half-fibrous, but soft and pulpy texture, as the substance of the 
brain itself, and is in perfect continuity with that substance, 
forming, therefore, with it, what may be considered as one mass, 
as much as the whole brain itself may be considered as one mass; 
which has indeed for its chief seat the great cavity of the head; 
* * * but which extends, by innumerable ramifications over the 
whole surface, and through the internal parts of the body. * * * 
In .short, if the brain and nerves be in a sound state, and certain 
substances be applied to certain parts of the nervous system;— 
as for instance, sapid bodies to the extremities of the nerves of 
taste, or light to that expansion of the optic nerve, which forms 
what is termed the retina,—there is then instant sensation. * * * 
This very slight general knowledge of the circumstances in which 
sensation takes place, and of the circumstances in which it does 
not take place (i. e. when the brain or nerves are affected), is 
all the knowledge which physiology affords of the corporeal 
part of the process, and it is likely to continue so for ever. * * * 

“ Of the nature of the connexion of this great sensorial organ 
with the sentient mind, we never shall be able to understand 
more than is involved in the simple fact, that a certain affection 

E 



‘34 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


of the nervous system precedes immediately a certain affection 
of the mind.*** It is like a magician that operates at a distance 
on every side, hut still keeps himself apart within a narrow cir¬ 
cle. If we remain without the circle, we may gaze with never- 
ceasing admiration on the wonders that play in rapid succession 
before our eyes: but if we rush within to force an avowal of 
the secret energy that produces them, the enchanter and the 
enchantments alike are fled.” 1 

This simple view of the case is all that we can admit upon 
rational principles. We look upon our external senses and 
organs as mere instruments, which we can make use of accord¬ 
ing to pleasure. Like other instruments, they may be injured, 
and according to the different degrees in which they suffer, our 
constitution is proportionally affected. We cannot say that 
they are the only medium by which we might be capable of 
holding converse with intellectual and material substances. On 
this subject our ignorance is complete, and it is enough for us to 
know, that they are the only one with which we are endowed in 
our present stage of existence. Though these are the only organs 
of perception which are visible to our eyes—yet, every thing for¬ 
bids us to harbour the supposition, that they themselves are the 
percipients. Though they are the only sentinels that are sta¬ 
tioned upon the fore-ground of our material system, in order to 
receive and carry intelligence—yet, there still exists the general 
within, who acts through them as his ministers—harmonizes and 
corrects their reports, and prepares his judgment accordingly 
for future action. * * 

5. How these senses are connected with the invisible agent 
who is behind the screen, no philosopher, however profound his 
researches, has yet been able to determine. Neither do we 
expect any further light upon this subject, from the advancement 
of either physiological or anatomical science. With all due 
modesty we may venture to say, that this is impossible. In the 
great concatenation of causes and effects, we may probably, by 


1 Brown’s Philosophy of the Human Mind. Vol. ], page 387—91. 

* See Appendix, Note 2. 



literary pancratium. 


35 


successive discoveries and a more accurate philosophy, be able 
to find other intervening links which have yet been undiscovered, 
and may serve to lengthen the chain,—yet, whatever the ultimate 
link may be however we may flatter our own talents upon the 
discovery, we shall have the same difficulties to contend with,— 
the same mysteries to solve; and, the additional light which we 
may have acquired upon the subject, and which, in the height 
of our enthusiasm, we may have fondly imagined to have been 
sufficient to establish us as “ the legislators of all who think,” 
will merely serve to shew us the weakness of our proud and 
aspiring powers—the intricacies and the “darkness visible” of 
the labyrinth. 

We do not say this in order to discourage researches of this 
kind. Like other researches, they are valuable, and the more 
so, because they are conversant with those systems of matter 
which, though they are the least visible to our senses, yet are the 
most interesting to us. But after we have arrived at the boun¬ 
dary-line which separates our rational and legitimate inquiries 
from mere speculation and unfounded hypothesis—when we 
stand upon the very verge and frontiers of mystery—it is in 
vain for us to endeavour to fill up the chasm. 

“In its sublime research, philosophy 

May measure out the ocean deep—may count 
The sands or the sun’s rays—‘my soul! ’ for thee 
There is no weight or measure:—none can mount 
Up to thy mysteries; reason’s brightest spark 
Though kindled by thy light, in vain would try 
To trace thy ‘ wonders’ infinite and dark ; 

And thought is lost, ere thought can soar so high, 

Even like past moments in eternity.” 1 

Should we even suppose with some of the ancient philoso¬ 
phers, that the body is something similar to a musical instru¬ 
ment, and that thought, in the same way as harmony, is pro¬ 
duced from the tension of the nerves 2 —should we, however, lay 
materialism quite out of the question, and concede such a sup¬ 
position as this, merely as an useful appendage and auxiliary 


1 Derzhavin accommodated. 


2 Plato in Phsedone, page 388. 





36 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


for an immaterial substance, yet we should still be as far as ever 
from giving a satisfactory solution to the question. For what 
analogy can there be betwixt any state of our material organs 
and the sublimity of thought ? The case, however, is so. For 
as it is well observed by a philosopher from whom we have 
quoted above, though we love simplicity, yet, we love still more 
what is mysterious. When we meet with a difficulty, we are 
fain to get rid of it, though it be at the expense of plunging into 
another; and we are apt to imagine, that the difficulty really 
vanishes in proportion as we render it less visible. Any person 
for instance, says he, may understand the simple fact of a stone 
falling to the earth; but, it is only for the philosopher to clear 
the point of all difficulties by imagining a subtle ether whirling 
it down to its kindred substances.* 

“In the operations of nature (says Dr. Reid) I hold the theo¬ 
ries of a philosopher, which are unsupported by fact, in the 
same estimation with the dreams of a man asleep, or the ravings 
of a madman. We laugh at the Indian philosopher, who, to 
account for the support of the earth, contrived the hypothesis of 
a huge elephant, and to support the elephant, a huge tortoise. 
If we will candidly confess the truth, we know as little of the 
operation of the nerves, as he did of the manner in which the 
earth is supported; and our hypotheses about animal spirits, or 
about the tension and vibrations of the nerves, are as like to be 
true, as his about the support of the earth.—His elephant was 
an hypothesis, and our hypotheses are elephants. Every theory 
in philosophy which is built on pure conjecture, is an elephant; 
and every theory that is supported partly by fact, and partly by 
conjecture, is like Nebuchadnezzar’s image, whose feet were 
partly of iron, and partly of clay.” 1 

These observations are merely thrown out in order to warn us 

i 

against framing hypotheses, the truth of which, in all proba¬ 
bility, we shall never have an opportunity of demonstrating. 
But it is time for us to return from this digression which we hope, 
however, is not altogether impertinent to the subject. 


* See Appendix, Note 3. i Inquiry into the Human Mind. 








LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


37 


ON THE IMMATERIALITY OF THE SOUL. 

SECT. II. 

6. The THEORIES of modern materialists briefly stated. 7. The 
theory o/Dr. Priestley refuted. 8. The theory of Bichat, 
Cuvier, and the French Philosophers examined. 9. The 
theory o/Dr. Lawrence shewn to be untenable. 10. The phe¬ 
nomena of memory etc., utterly inexplicable upon the theories 
of the materialists. 11. Strictures on modern scepticism. 
12. Concluding observations on the dignity of man, with re¬ 
spect to his present faculties, and the prospect of an unfad¬ 
ing existence. 

6. When we have traced up the chain of material causes 
from link to link, till we have arrived at the last—the question 
is—Is the present system of organization with which we are 
connected, or any of its constituent parts, a sufficient basis 
upon which a rational and sober inquirer may venture to repose 
his faith, and ground the superstructure of perception, memory, 
and the various phenomena of what we conceive to be an imma¬ 
terial substance? 

The following may be looked upon as the theories of our most 
celebrated materialists on this subject. Dr. Priestley tells us 
that since “the powers of sensation, or perception and thought 
as belonging to man, have not been found but in conjunction 
with a certain organized system of matter, the conclusion is that 
they depend upon such a system.” 

“The functions of the animal (says Bichat) form two distinct 
classes. One of these consists of an habitual succession of assi¬ 
milation and concretion, by which it is constantly transforming 
into its own substance the particles of other bodies, and then re¬ 
jecting them when they become useless. By the other, he per¬ 
ceives surrounding objects, reflects on his sensations, performs 


38 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


voluntary motions under their influence, and generally commu¬ 
nicates by the voice, his pleasures or pains, his desires or fears. 
*** The assembled functions of the second class form the 

ANIMAL LIFE.” 1 

“Cuvier, another great authority in the same school, atone 
time says, that, be life what it may, it cannot be what the vulgar 
suppose it, a 'particular principle (principe particulier). In 
another place, he acknowledges that life can only proceed from 
life (la vie ndit que de la vie). Then again he considers it an 
internal principle (un principe interieur d’entretien et de repara¬ 
tion); and last of all says, that life consists in the sum total of 
all the functions (il consiste dans Vensemble des functions qui 
servent a nourir le corps, c’est a dire la digestion, V absorption, la 
circulation, fyc.). Thus, he makes life a cause which owes its 
existence to its own operations, and consequently a cause which, 
had it not operated to produce itself, had never operated nor ex¬ 
isted at all.” 2 

The reader will perceive that some of these definitions are 
vague, and have an air of mystery about them; as if the physi¬ 
ologists themselves were perfectly aware of the palpable nonsense 
which they were ushering into the world under the gar b of such 
cloudy verbiage. How r ever, for every purpose for which we have 
here adduced them at present, they are sufficiently intelligible. 
But should there be any deficiencies in this respect, they will be 
sufficiently compensated by Dr. Lawrence, who has been lately 
grafted upon the French stock of materialism. 

“ The same kinds of facts (says Dr. L.), the same reasoning, 
the same sort of evidence altogether, which show digestion to be 
the function of the alimentary canal, motion of the muscles, the 
various secretions of the respective glands, prove that sensation, 
perception, memory, judgment, thought, in a word, all the ma¬ 
nifestations called mental or intellectual, are the animal func¬ 
tions of their appropriate apparatus, the central organ of the 


1 Recherches sur la vie et la mort. 

2 Watson’s Theological Institutes, Vol. 1. page 387. Medical Review, 
September. 1822. 






LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


39 


NERVOUS SYSTEM. Shall I be told that thought is inconsistent 
with matter; that we cannot perceive how medullary substance 
can perceive, remember, judge, reason ? I acknowledge that we 
are as entirely ignorant how the parts of the brain accomplish 
these purposes, as we are how the liver secretes bile, how the 
muscles contract, or how any other living purpose is effected; 
as we are how heavy bodies are attracted to the earth, how iron 
is drawn to the magnet, or how two salts decompose each other. 

“ Examine the mind, the great prerogative of man. Where 
is the mind of the child just born? Do we not see it actually 
built up before our eyes by the action of the five external senses, 
and of the gradually developed internal faculties?—Where, then, 
shall we find proofs of the mind’s independence on the bodily 
structure? Of that mind which, like the corporeal structure, is 
infantile in the child, manly in the adult, sick and debilitated in 
disease, phrensied or melancholy in the madman, doting in de¬ 
crepitude, and ANNIHILATED by DEATH.” 1 

We have now given a fair specimen of the reasoning of mo¬ 
dern materialists, and we shall make a few brief remarks on the 
passages above cited. 

7. Dr. Priestley tells us, that since thought is only found in 
conjunction with a certain system of organization, the conclusion 
is, that it depends upon that system. This is a very brief and 
summary method of dismissing a question so momentous. . He 
sees that thought and organization are connected, and having 
found them so frequently in company together, he thinks that 
they must be more intimately related than many people are apt 
to imagine. If the Dr. was to carry such a criterion as this 
along with him into every other question, it would soon lead 
him to conclusions a little different from those of a sound phi¬ 
losophy. “ Night would be the cause of day, and day the cause 
of night, for no two things have more constantly followed each 
other since the beginning of the world. Any thing, for what we 
know, may be the cause of any thing, since nothing is essential 
to a cause but its being constantly followed by the effect; what 


i Lectures. 




40 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


is unintelligent may be the cause of what is intelligent; folly 
may be the cause of wisdom, and evil of good; and thus all 
reasoning- from the effect to the nature of the cause, and all 
reasoning from final causes must he given up as fallacious.” 1 
But what, after all, is the meaning of this boasted word “ or¬ 
ganization.” We can gather no other idea from the term, than 
that of a system of parts adapted to a particular purpose. It is 
synonymous with mechanism, and the observations which P aley 
has thrown out in his chapter on the being of a God, are as ap¬ 
plicable here, as to the subject which he is professedly treating. 
“ Mechanism is not itself power. Mechanism, without power, 
can do nothing. Let a watch be contrived and constructed ever 
so ingeniously; be its parts ever so many, ever so complicated, 
ever so finely wrought, or artificially put together, it cannot go 
without a weight or spring; i. e. without a force independent 
of, and ulterior to, its mechanism. The spring acting at the 
centre, will produce different motions and different results, ac¬ 
cording to the variety of the intermediate mechanism. One and 
the self-same spring, acting in one and the same manner, viz. 
by simply expanding itself, may be the cause of a hundred dif¬ 
ferent and useful movements, if a hundred different and well- 
devised sets of wheels be placed between it and the final effect; 
e. g. they may point out the hour of the day, the day of the 
month, the age of the moon, the position of the planets, the cy¬ 
cle of the years, and many other serviceable notices; and these 
movements may fulfil their purposes with more or less perfec¬ 
tion, according as the mechanism is the better or worse contriv¬ 
ed, or better or worse executed, or in a better or worse state of 
repair; but in all cases it is necessary that the spring act at 
the centre. The course of our reasoning upon such a subject 
would be this.—By inspecting the watch even when standing- 
still, we get a proof of contrivance, and of a contriving mind 
having been employed about it. In the form and obvious rela¬ 
tion of its parts, we see enough to convince us of this. If we 
pull the works in pieces, for the purpose of a closer examination. 


i Reid.—I n answer to the Metaphysical Sophistry of Hume. 






LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


41 


we are still more f ully convinced. But when we see the watch 
going, we see proof of another point, viz. that there is a power 
somewhere, and somehow or other applied to it; a power in 
action; that there is more in the subject than the wheels; that 
there is a secret spring, or gravitating plummet; in a word, that 
there is force, as well as mechanism.” 1 

8. With respect to Bichat’s definition of life, which we have 
quoted above, we can only observe that it does not merit what 
a philosopher has termed the least degree of praise, viz. that of 
“ pleasing absurdity.” Dr. Johnson tells us somewhere, that 
“ grand nonsense is insupportable ; ” but if there be any thing 
more insupportable, it must be “grave nonsense.” The French 
philosopher reasons neither one way nor the other—neither from 
the cause to the effect, nor yet from the effect to the cause. In 
inquiring into the existence of a spiritual and an invisible being, 
we must reason in the same manner as we do upon any other 
subject. Analogy is here our only guide. The nature of the 
attributes leads us to that of the subject—the nature of the func¬ 
tions to that of the agent. When we are told, for instance, that 
solidity, extension, divisibility, etc. are the properties of matter; 
these abstract terms immediately direct us to the concrete—soli¬ 
dity points us to something that is solid—extension and divisibi¬ 
lity to something that is extended and divisible. 

In like manner, when we are told that reflection, conscious¬ 
ness, etc. are the phenomena of our intellectual system; does 
not consciousness direct us to something that is conscious—re¬ 
flection to something that reflects P From the nature of the effects, 
we infer the nature of the cause; and as we see nothing materi¬ 
al —nothing, in fact, that is connected with our visible and cor¬ 
poreal system, capable of producing them; we rationally con¬ 
clude that, since every effect must have an adequate cause, there 
must be something invisible, something immaterial. In vain is 
it to say that we cannot conceive how such a being exists, and 
in what manner it converses, by means of its material organs, 
with the systems of matter which surround it. This is certainly 




i Natural Theology. 
F 










42 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


a mystery, riw^ TO Aetttov tuto vohtou ©jw y.ov u) syyworat. “ How 
this incorporeal being thinks, is known to God alone.” 1 Such 
an opinion as this may be mysterious, but if we intend to avoid 
the wreck of materialism, this is the port in which we must take 
refuge. It is far more rational than to turn round with these 
philosophers, and gravely assert, that the effects constitute the 
cause —the modes the substance, and the functions the 

AGENT. 

9. But whatever air of mystery there may be about the French 
philosophers— Dr. Lawrence throws off the mask entirely, and 
appears as the champion of materialism, in its broadest and most 
unqualified form. Like all other innovators, he appeals to “ facts,” 
and the experience of his fellow-creatures. He wonders why 
the rest of mankind, who differ from him in opinion, are so easily 
duped as to believe that their corporeal systems are actuated by 
an invisible agent; and, of course, he thinks that his own opi¬ 
nion is as plain as if it were “ written with sun-beams.” There 
is no wonder, therefore, that he makes use of such bold ex¬ 
pressions ; for he seems aware, that the deficiencies of his rea¬ 
soning, must be helped out by the confidence of his assertions. 

Dr. Lawrence allows, that there is a mystery in supposing 
hoiv “ medullary substance can perceive, remember, judge, rea¬ 
son. ” It is well enough, that the Dr. who sets himself up 
for a detector and exploder of errors, can be so candid as 
to acknowledge, that there is a mystery in any thing. We, no 
more than Dr. Lawrence, are able to dive into the mysteries 
of causation and the connexion which subsists betwixt agents 
and the effects to which they give rise. This is inexplicable, and 
it is sufficient for us to know, that there is a connexion, and that 
ceitain antecedents are universally followed by the same conse¬ 
quents, i. e. when the circumstances of the case are in every respect 
the same. After we have therefore found out that there is a con¬ 
nexion, our inquiries should be at an end; and our only conso¬ 
lation should be, that on this subject we are as wise as the wisest 
of oui fellow-mortals. But after all we must be convinced that 


1 Epiphanius in Ancoreto, Cap. 55. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


43 


there is a connexion; for so long as we are inquiring into this 
point, we are investigating mere facts, and we shall be no 
friends either to philosophy or religion, if we talk about “ mys¬ 
tery ” instead of “evidence.” 

But we are probably wronging the Dr., for he alludes to 
“ evidence ” first, and then dwells upon “ mystery” afterwards. 
We will repeat the sentence. 

“ The same kinds of facts, the same reasoning, the same sort 
ol evidence altogether, which shew digestion to be the function 
of the alimentary canal, motion of the muscles, the various 
secretions of the respective glands, prove that sensation, per¬ 
ception, memory, judgment, thought, in a word, all the manifes¬ 
tations called mental or intellectual, are the animal functions of 
their appropriate apparatus, the central organ of the nervous 

SYSTEM.” 

Unfortunately for Dr. Lawrence, he is deficient in the proof. 
We know that digestion is the function of the alimentary canal; 
and why? Because we have ocular demonstration. We know 
that liver secretes bile—that the muscles contract; and why? 
Because we have the same species of evidence. We know that 
this is the case, and consequently, the mere fact cannot be af¬ 
fected by our reasonings upon the modus operandi. This is in¬ 
explicable. 

But is it the same with respect to the brain ? Do we know 
that thought is the function of the central organ of the nervous 
system? Did Dr. Lawrence ever see a brain in the act of 
thinking? Can he prove it? We would not bind him down 
strictly to make good his own assertions!—We do not ask him to 
bring forward the same “ kinds of facts, the same reasoning, and 
the same sort of evidence altogether! ” We merely inquire of 
him if there be any kinds of facts, and any sort of evidence by 
which he can prove it?—and if there be, we ask him, why he 
has not brought forward these facts, reasoning, and evidence? 
“ If he cannot, this part of his argument refutes itself, and by his 
own shewing, he has left the important question just as he 
found it. What avails it to say, that we never saw thought 
without a brain ? Did Dr. L. ever see it without a heart, or lungs. 


11 


LITE 11ARY PANCRATIUM. 


or liver ? W hat avails it to say, that though it cannot be explain¬ 
ed how the brain thinks, no more can it be explained how the liver 
secretes bile, or a muscle moves, or stones fall to the ground. This 
is true, but it has nothing to do with the question; it is not the 
explanation that we want, but the fact. That the liver does secrete 
bile—that the muscles move, or that stones fall to the ground, 
however inexplicable to us, are undoubted facts; that the brain 
thinks is not a fact, it is only the opinion of Dr. Lawrence. * * * 
10. “ There are various other views which might be taken of 

this important subject, and which, we think, must satisfy every 
candid inquirer, that the phenomena of mind are utterly incon¬ 
sistent with any idea we can form of a material function. Let 
us take a single example, and inquire in a few words, how, upon 
the principles of materialism, we are to account for the pheno¬ 
mena of memory? We find some difficulty in conceiving how 
the matter of the brain receives the impressions of history, phi¬ 
losophy, and mathematics;—how various sciences and various 
languages, with the addition of innumerable affairs of ordinary 
life, are all received without confusion into one ‘ small head/ 
But we think there is still a greater difficulty, and that is the 
manner in which they are retained. It is well known to physi¬ 
ologists, that all the parts of an healthy body are in a constant 
state of change;—that there is a constant, though gradual remo¬ 
val of the old matter, and a corresponding deposition of new 
matter in its place. We cannot ascertain the precise periods 
connected with this remarkable process, but we have every rea¬ 
son to believe, that there is a period, and not a very long one, 
during which every particle of the body is renewed. Now, if 
memory be merely an impression made upon a material organ, 
in what manner is the impression transmitted ? Does an old 
man relate the tales of his early days ? How has he retained 
them ? There is not in his body a single particle that was pre¬ 
sent when the incident occurred, upon which he dwells with 
such complacent garrulity. Has one series of particles, as they 
departed, related the tale to those which came to occupy their 
place, as a sentinel, on quitting his post, repeats Lis instructions 
to him who relieves him? Or is there some provision ‘to the 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


45 


world, a secret yet./ by which the newly-acquired matter is in¬ 
structed in what it is expected to know? Does the new matter 
that is added to the body of a Gregory, undergo from time to 
time, a course of instruction in physics? Was the nutriment of 
Porson regularly drilled in Greek? Do the particles of Wil- 
berforce relate to one another the tale of Afric’s wrong's? Did 
the atoms of Bonaparte urge on the conscript atoms in their 
wild career of ruthless ambition ? Is it to this simple and easy 
course of transmission, that we are all indebted for what little 
learning we have been able to retain; and have certain negligent 
atoms failed in their duty in regard to much useful knowledge 
that we have forgotten? We cannot enlarge upon this curious 
subject; but it is highly important in a moral point of view, 
especially in regard to crimes and punishments. * Upon the 
principle of materialism, it will evidently be necessary, that the 
punishment shall immediately follow the crime; for, if a single 
day intervene between them, some of the peccant matter will have 
eluded our grasp, and some innocent matter will be punished 
with the guilty.” 1 

11. Thus, after all the struggles of a reluctant philosophy, 
we are obliged to take refuge in the existence of an immaterial 
substance. However formidable materialism may appear when 
it is surrounded with the array of science, and defended by men 
“ skilled in academic lore;” yet, it is only so at a distance, and 
when we approach the enemy, deeply entrenched as he is within 
the bulwarks of physiology—the colossal giant dwindles to an 
insignificant pigmy, and we have nothing to combat, but airy 
phantasms. That men of learning and acuteness should have 
ever come forward to support a system so fraught with absurdity, 
may seem strange and unaccountable; but however various the 
motives are to which it may be imputed—there is no doubt but 
that much of it is owing to that ivayivardness and affectation of 
singularity, by which numbers endeavour to distinguish them¬ 
selves in every rank of life, and in every department of science. 

The reader will perceive that in the present discussion we 


i Kaleidoscope, No. 33. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


4f> 

have made no allusion to Scripture. The reason why we have 
met them solely upon their own ground, and carried on the 
contest with the same weapons, is because most of our opponents 
do not acknowledge the authority of Scripture, or, at least, only 
admit its testimony as far as it is in accordance with the theories 
which they have adopted. It is almost superfluous for us to 
observe, that materialism, so far from being countenanced by the 
sacred writers, is contradicted by the whole tenor of Scripture; 
and that not only in express words, but by every fact which 
a revelation, considered as a supernatural instructor, has disco¬ 
vered, relative to our present and future states of existence. It 
is here, and here only, that true philosophy can be found. 
Throughout the whole volume, the distinction betwixt matter 
and spirit, is continually kept up. The “ breath of lives” is 
never confounded with that material and organized system 
which it animates and informs. 

Far from sympathizing with some modern philosophers, who 
wish “to inspire us with reptile feelings,” by representing us 
as the “little beings that crawl upon the earth,” and as sink¬ 
ing into nothing, when compared with the “vast epochs of na¬ 
ture”—we would rather call upon all, who are connected with 
us by ties so sacred and endearing, to “ rally round the consti¬ 
tution of our common nature, and to support its dignity.” The 
principles of a philosophy that would teach its disciples to rea¬ 
son downwards, can never be true; and the balances in which it 
\\ ould estimate our moral and intellectual character, are cer¬ 
tainly not those of the “ sanctuary. ” We may be found “ want¬ 
ing in the latter, but in the former we shall be as nothing’, or 
less than nothing—a mere cypher in the universe. 

12. That certain circumstances have taken place, which 
have exerted a lasting and fatal influence upon our intellectual 
chaiacter, must be admitted by every believer in the plain and 
simple statements of Scripture. We must also admit, that there 
are other anomalies, which can be only explained upon large and 
comprehensive views, and an intimate acquaintance with the 

whole of a stupendous scheme, many of whose constituent parts 
are entirely intercepted from our view. 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


47 


But after every allowance, which must he made upon this 
head, we have still a display of the Almighty’s wisdom, power, 
and benevolence, sufficient to fill us with admiration and gra¬ 
titude. Though the city no longer exists in the zenith of its 
splendour, yet the mouldering walls and battlements suspended 
“ in mid air,” bear ample testimony to the greatness of the 
design, and its pristine dignity.—Though we are no longer 
warmed with the invigorating heat, and the dazzling effulgence 
of the meridian sun, yet we look with a mixture of delight and 
wonder upon the “ crimson glory ” of his departing rays. 

We cannot take our leave of the present subject, without 
again impressing upon the reader, its importance, connected as 
it is with an Agent so dignified. When we trace the knife of the 
anatomist who lays open to us the most secret structure of our 
frame—when we hear him descanting upon the various uses to 
which such and such parts are adapted—when we see every con¬ 
stituent part filling up a separate office, yet tending to one com¬ 
mon result, and forming a system replete with beauty and sym¬ 
metry for the convenience of a rational being—when we see 
this, w r e have seen enough “ to throw the gazer on his knee ! ”— 
But where is the physiologist—where is the metaphysician who 
has discovered, and who can explain to us the nature and the 
source of our intellectual phenomena, 

“ The mind, the spirit, the Promethean spark, 

The lightning of our being ? ” i 

We do not ask, where is the mind that can comprehend the 
universe; but we ask, where is the mind that can grasp itself? 
Who can estimate the treasures and resources of this great 
“ prerogative” of man, and the strength of those faculties which 
at present, are but in “ embryo?” 

When we look upon him as speculating upon the wonders 
which every where surround him, tracing up the mightiest 
effects to their simplest causes, investigating the laws, by 
which his own and the planetary worlds are governed!—When 


i Byron. 




48 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


we see him pursuing' nature into her inmost recesses, and re¬ 
moving the veil which conceals her most secret and wondrous 
operations!—When we look upon him borne upon the wings of 
imagination, and, as it were, in defiance of the material system 
which fetters him, peopling the invisible and interminable realms 
of space with beings of a different texture, and giving to “ airy 
nothing, a local habitation and a name! ”—When we view him, 
not merely as travelling the “ dull journey of his times,” and 
satisfied with the researches of his contemporaries, but “ rolling 
back the tide of ages,” “ calling up the sleeping sages from the 
dust,” and holding converse with the mighty masters of anti¬ 
quity, the spirit of Homer, and the genius of expiring Rome!— 
When we look around us, and reflect upon the wonderful opera¬ 
tions of this mighty being; as if the Almighty had delegated to 
him a portion of his own omnipotence—we see him every-where 
living amidst “ his own creations.” The towering pyramid, the 
breathing bust, and the glowing figure starting from the canvass, 
proclaim the greatness of him who gave them birth, and whose 
“ breathings were after immortality! ” 

Wherever he places his footsteps, we see every thing subser¬ 
vient to his will and command. He is a being, whom no diffi¬ 
culties can damp,—whose ardour nothing can abate; and the 
discoveries of his own and past ages, instead of satisfying him, 
elevate his soul to higher aims, and “ nobler daring!”—But, 
when we pass over this, and consider him as a being, who is 
under a moral administration, and who is bound by a law of 
moral obligation—one, who possesses within himself an internal 
monitor, which, if not blinded by passion or warped by preju¬ 
dice, admonishes him of his duty—scrutinizes his most secret 
actions—estimates their character, and either rewards them with 
self-complacency, or punishes them with remorse!—When we 
consider him as not a solitary unit in the world, but as connected 
with myriads of the same nature and of “like passions” to him¬ 
self—as capable of augmenting his own happiness by augment¬ 
ing that of others,—framing laws, according to which the social 
system must be regulated—uniting the most powerful with the 
most insignificant—rendering them equally dependent on 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


49 


mutual assistance, and binding with one common chain, the 
numerous and widely-dispersed family of man!—But when we 
look farther and reflect that the present state is not his final 
abode—that his existence here is of a probationary character— 
that, though he inherits the degeneracy and corrupt nature of 
his first parents, yet, in order to reach his case, a great scheme 
has been carrying on almost from the very first dawn of creation, 
which has increased in grandeur, and been more clearly de¬ 
veloped, as it has rolled down successive ages,—a scheme, in 
comparison of which, all our policies are poor and little, 

“ Non res Romans, perituraque regna, ”— 

A scheme, so nicely adjusted, that while it satisfies the conflict¬ 
ing claims of justice and mercy, restores man to the lost “ image” 
of his Maker, and sets before him the prospect of an eternal 
felicity!—When we consider all this, language labours beneath 
the burthen of the “ vast idea big,” and the poet might well 
exclaim, 

***** 

“ Though but an atom ’midst immensity, 

Still I am something, fashioned by Thy hand, 

I hold a middle rank ’twixt heav’n and earth, 

On the last verge of mortal being stand. 

Close to the realms where angels have their birth, 

Just on the boundaries of the spirit-land! 

***** 

“ Creator, yes! Thy wisdom and Thy word 
Created me! Thou source of life and good! 

Thou spirit of my spirit, and my Lord! 

Thy light, Thy love, in their bright plenitude 
Filled me with an immortal soul, to spring 
Over the abyss of death, and bade it wear 
The garments of eternal day, and wing 

Its heavenly flight beyond this little sphere, 

Even to its source—to Thee—its Author there.” 1 

f! 


x Derzhavin. 
G 





50 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


DISSERTATION III. 

ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

SECT. I. 

i. In proof of the immortality of the soul no aid can he derived 
from METAPHYSICAL arguments. 2. From the soul being dis¬ 
tinct from the body, and in many cases not affected by orga¬ 
nic disease, a presumption may be drawn that the dissolution 
of the body may not be the dissolution of the principle of 
consciousness. 3. This presumption derives strength from the 
soul’s capacity of indefinite improvement. 4. The moral 
disorders of the present administration appear to indicate 
a future one of impartial retribution. 

1. Intimately connected with the immateriality of the soul, 
which was the subject of our preceding dissertation, is its im¬ 
mortality. Every argument by which we endeavour to prove 
that the soul is spiritual, goes so far to establish the probability 
of its being immortal. We could however wish to be understood 
on this point. When we say that the immateriality of the soul 
establishes the probability of its being immortal, the reader may 
think that, the former point being settled, there needs not be 
much dispute about the latter. We are aware that this is an 
opinion which is very generally held; but we may justly observe 
that it is pregnant with inconsistency, and leads to absurdities 
the most revolting. When we have proved the soul to be a spiri¬ 
tual substance, we must seek for quite different arguments in 
order to prove its immortality; for it is rather a brief and sum¬ 
mary method of dismissing the question by saying that, because 
it is immaterial, therefore it is immortal. We know that it 
could not be immortal, except it was immaterial; but that is 
merely a sine qua non, and not the internal cause.—We must 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


51 


constantly keep in mind, that, when the metaphysician under¬ 
takes to accomplish his task, he must confine himself to argu¬ 
ments which are drawn from this source, and not from any other. 
He must prove that the nature of the soul infallibly infers its 
immortality, and that we are safely invested with it, indepen¬ 
dent of any external relation. But before our philosopher can 
prove this, he must prove what we consider to be a difficult 
task—that the soul is independent —that it exists “ necessarily 
and per se,” and that it has within itself the germ of immortality, 
which no being, however superior, can destroy. Before our 
philosopher can prove this, it will be necessary for him to enter¬ 
tain the same opinions which were adopted by some of the 
Pagan philosophers, who conceived that the soul was a7roo-7rao-/xa 
©e«, a spark of the Godhead, an emanation from the Deity; 
and who therefore found no difficulty in conceiving that it might 
be eternal “ a parte post ” since it was evidently so " a parte 
ante. ,} This, we must confess, was a very rational conclusion, 
and nothing was wanting except a better substantiation of the 
premises; for if God be immortal and eternal, a position which 
these philosophers did not question, it evidently follows, that 
those souls which emanated from his essence, must partake of 
the same illustrious attributes. 

But the case does not stand thus with those philosophers, who 
ground their opinions upon the plain and unvarnished state¬ 
ments of Scripture. They allow that the human soul, as well 
as the “ goodly frame” of things which surround us, were cre¬ 
ated by the supreme jiat of the Almighty. Consequently, they 
acknowledge that it is a dependent being; but, now, we would 
ask them, in what manner they will conduct their reasoning? 
If they say that it is necessarily immortal by its own peculiar 
essence and nature, the consequences are alarming! and, except 
they do say this, all metaphysical arguments drawn from this 
source, in proof of its immortality, must be instantly given up 
as perfectly untenable. Such a conclusion as the above imme¬ 
diately warrants another, viz., that the soul, since it derives its 
immortality from its immateriality, cannot with respect to the 
duration of its existence, be dependent upon its Creator, by 


52 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


whom all things consist,” and who, as the Scriptures expressly 
assure us, “ only has immortality,” that is, in himself, which, 
therefore, is an incommunicable attribute of the Diety. 

We grant that it is very easy for our opponents to say that 
God has conferred immortality upon the souls of rational beings. 
This we believe as firmly as they do, but we do not feel inclined 
to adopt their method of reasoning, and gravely assert, that the 
soul derives its immortality from its own essence, while we 
maintain with the same breath, that it owes its origin and exist¬ 
ence to the will of an omnipotent Creator. If they should say 
that God may have made its immateriality the cause of its im¬ 
mortality, such a position “ cannot justly be treated as unsound 
reasoning—it is a mere absurdity—a contradiction in terms.” 
It would be to assert, that God may bestow upon a being, 
a something intrinsic—a something within its own nature, 
which will render it independent, not only of external circum¬ 
stances, but of its own Creator—which, however, we conceive to 
be impossible, and therefore not properly the object of any 
power, however unlimited. We again repeat it, that we believe 
the soul to be immortal, but its immortality, we think, does not 
originate from its own nature and essence, but from the will of 
its Creator, which is an external relation. Should his support¬ 
ing hand be withdrawn, like the frail tenement which it inhabits, 
it would sink into its original nothingness. 1 We may observe 
here, that our bodies were likewise created immortal, and if our 
first parents had preserved their innocence till the present age, 
there would be very little doubt that a metaphysician or physi¬ 
ologist of this class would have asserted, that the body derived 
its immortality from the intrinsic and peculiar nature of its 
organization. In proof of the soul’s immortality, we may there¬ 
fore very easily dispense with those metaphysical arguments 
which are drawn from its essence, indivisibility, etc. They are 
at best but dangerous auxiliaries, and we have no doubt that 
those who are the greatest sticklers for arguments of this kind. 


x See Stewart’s Preliminary Dissertations to the Encyclopaedia Britan - 
nica, page 57—8. Ed. 1830. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


53 


if they would but candidly confess the truth, would freely 
acknowledge that they are more bewildered by the subtilty of 
their phraseology, than convinced by the soundness of their 
reasoning. However, be that as it may, we may safely assert, 
that in nine cases out of ten, they are neither tangible nor 
intelligible.—If we keep this reasoning in view, we shall be very 
easily enabled to clear our system of a difficulty which attends 
the theory of those who have recourse to the metaphysical 
arguments to which we have alluded. On the premises which 
we have laid down in the preceding dissertation, and which we 
think to be incontrovertible, “not only (says an accurate writer), 
must an immaterial principle be allowed to man, but to all ani¬ 
mals possessed of volition; and few, perhaps none, are found 
without this property. But though this has often been urged 
as an objection, it can cost the believer in Revelation nothing to 
admit it. It strengthens and does not weaken his argument, 
and it is perfectly in accordance with Scripture, which speaks of 
the ' soul of a beast/ as well as of the ‘ soul of man/ Vastly, 
nay, we might say, infinitely different are they in the class and 
degree of their powers, though of the same spiritual essence; 
but they have both properties which cannot be attributed to 
matter. It does not however follow, that they are immortal, 
because they are immaterial. The truth is, that God only hath 
independent immortality, because he only is self-existent, and 
neither human nor brute souls are of necessity immortal. God 
hath given this privilege to man, not by a necessity of nature, 
which would be incompatible with dependence, but by his own 
will, and the continuance of his sustaining power. But he seems 
to have denied it to inferior animals, and according to the lan¬ 
guage of Scripture, ‘the spirit of a beast goeth downward/” 1 
2. But though we do not take into our account the usual 
metaphysical arguments on this subject, yet there are others, 
which, though they do not deserve to be styled conclusive,— 
still have great weight in the scale of probability. In our pre¬ 
ceding dissertation, we have shewn that the mind, though it 


x Watson’s Theological Institutes, Vol 1. p. 392. 





54 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


is mysteriously connected with a certain organized system of 
matter, yet is entirely distinct from it,—a fact which may be 
very easily demonstrated by what we may term the interior 
functions of this invisible agent—functions which bear not the 
least analogy to matter, and to which any of its most complex 
combinations, though merely resorted to as a subsidiary ap¬ 
pendage, could not be of the slightest advantage. By the phrase 
“ interior functions/’ we mean those properties which are 
not connected with sensation; for though “ the senses are very 
remarkable properties of organized bodies, yet they are merely 
passive. They are the properties by which the body receives 
impressions from external material objects; and, without these 
impressions from matter, they are as nothing. 

“The eye may be sound; but, without the presence of a lumi¬ 
nous body, we see not. The ear may be acute; but, without a 
sounding body, we hear not. Besides this immediate depen¬ 
dence upon impressions derived from matter, the senses are 
limited in their operation, by precise material boundaries; we 
see not beyond a certain distance; we hear not beyond a certain 
range; we feel not, but from the contact of a tangible body. 
But is thought a mere sensation P No, it is something active. 
Has it any such relation to matter? No, it is an active, restless 
principle, which ranges uncontrolled from world to world, from 
sun to sun, from system to system; in an instant it pervades 
the regions of boundless space :—‘ How fleet is the glance of the 
mind!’ It owns no dependence upon material impressions. 
In the fairest scene of poetic stillness, the tempest may rage 
within; and, mid the convulsions of matter, the mind may be 
serenity and peace. It is equally independent of the state of 
the corporeal functions. While these are the prey of the most 
frightful diseases,the mind may emanate tranquillity and hope; 
and when every function is pursuing its course with such placi¬ 
dity as when an infant sleeps, the mind may be tossed by con¬ 
tending passions, distracted by anxiety, or racked by anguish, 
remorse, or despair.” 1 


1 Kaleidoscope. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


55 

“It does not appear, then, (says Bishop Butler), that the 
relation of this gross body to the reflecting being is, in any 
degree, necessary to thinking;—to our intellectual enjoyments 
or sufferings;—nor consequently, that the dissolution, or aliena¬ 
tion of‘ the former by death, will be the destruction of those pre¬ 
sent powers, which render us capable of this state of reflection. 
Further, there are instances of mortal diseases, which do not at 
all affect our present intellectual powers, and this affords a pre¬ 
sumption, that those diseases will not destroy these present 
powers. Indeed, from the observations made above, it appears 
that there is no presumption, from their mutually affecting each 
other, that the dissolution of the body is the destruction of the 
living agent. And by the same reasoning, it must appear too, 
that there is no presumption from their mutually affecting each 
other,—that the dissolution of the body is the destruction of our 
present reflecting powers; but instances of their not affecting 
each other afford a presumption to the contrary. Instances of 
mortal diseases not impairing our present reflecting powers, 
evidently turn our thoughts even from imagining such diseases 
to be the destruction of them. Several things indeed greatly 
affect all our living powers, and at length suspend the exercise 
of them; as, for instance, drowsiness increasing till it ends in 
sound sleep; and from hence we might have imagined it would 
destroy them, till we found by experience the weakness of this 
way of judging. But in the diseases now mentioned, there is 
not so much as this shadow of probability, to lead us to any 
such conclusion, as to the reflecting powers which we have 
at present; for in these diseases, persons the moment before 
death, appear to be in the highest vigour of life;— 

‘ Namque ubi torpescunt artus jam morte propinqua, 

Acrior est acies turn mentis, et entheus ardor; 

Tempore non alio facundia suavior, atque 
Fatidicse jam turn voces morientis ab ore. ’ 1 

They discover apprehension, memory, reason, all entire; with 
the utmost force of affection; sense of character, of shame and 


1 De animi Immortalitate. 





56 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


honour; and the highest mental enjoyments and sufferings, 
even to the last gasp; and these surely even prove greater 
vigour of life than bodily strength does. Now what pretence is 
there for thinking, that a progressive disease, when arrived to 
such a degree, I mean that degree which is mortal, will destroy 
those powers, which were not impaired—which were not affected 
by it, during its 'whole 'progress , quite up to that degree? And 
if death, by diseases of this kind, is not the destruction of our 
present reflecting powers, it will scarcely be thought that death 
by any other means is.” 1 

“ Is the reasoning faculty, then, thus independent of the most 
extensive destruction of organization ? Does it remain unim¬ 
paired amid the most frightful ruin; and, after being long ob¬ 
scured by disease, even of the organ with which it is most nearly 
connected, does it, without any change in the disease, burst 
forth in all its original splendour at the very moment of dissolu¬ 
tion? What is the fair and inevitable conclusion, but that the 
phenomena of physiology and pathology, ‘are in exact accord¬ 
ance with the sublime doctrines of religion; that the mysterious 
part of our being, which thinks and wills and reasons, survives the 
wreck of its mortal tenement, and aspires to immortality.’” 2 

3. Though we have stated above our reasons for rejecting the 
usual metaphysical arguments on this subject, as being useless, 
as well as unintelligible; yet, arguments of a very cogent cha¬ 
racter may be drawn from the faculties of the human soul, and 
what appears to be a most interesting feature, their gradual and 
progressive development. It would be superfluous here to 
enlarge upon this subject, since the remarks which were thrown 
out in the preceding dissertation, will be sufficiently impressed 
upon the memory of the reader. We have there said, that 
the mind, for any thing that we know to the contrary, will be 
continually approximating to the infinite in perfection. It is in 
vain to say, that after a certain age, it becomes debilitated, and 
like the tide, appears to be ebbing, as if it had reached its ut¬ 
most height,—the boundary-line which says, “Hitherto shalt 


i Butler’s Analogy of natural and revealed Religion, p. 12. 2 Kaleidoscope. 






LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


57 


tliou g’o, and no farther.” This, however, may be satisfactorily 
explained, and that too, without having recourse to the absurd 
theory of materialism. We have already proved that the mind, 
though a distinct substance, is connected with a certain orga¬ 
nized system of matter—that it will be proportionally affected 
by the disarrangement of its constituent parts—and that in very 
many cases, though exceptions are far from being rare, its natu¬ 
ral vigour is impaired by the gradual decay of those gross 
material organs, by which it carries on its communication with 
surrounding objects. If we may be allowed to make use of so 
obvious and trite a comparison, this is no more than to say, that 
the artist cannot execute his work in so neat and masterly a 
manner, except the instruments, by which he performs his ope¬ 
rations, be in a good state of repair. By seeing a defect in the 
instruments, no kind of reasoning, except false, would lead us 
to draw the conclusion, that the artist, with respect to his in¬ 
tellectual vigour and mechanical capacity, had suffered in the 
same proportion with his instruments. That defect may have 
proceeded from the negligence of the artist; it may have been 
occasioned by some unlucky and unavoidable accident; or it 
may have arisen from the badness of the materials, or the want 
of skill in the original maker; yet, this is not the question,— 
we are farther than ever from proving the incompetence of the 
artist, from the imperfection of his instruments, because we have 
removed the difficulty, by discovering some intervening cause, 
which before was imperceptible. The two cases, we think, are 
perfectly analogous; and, though analogy never amounts to the 
nature of a conclusive proof, yet, in many cases it has great 
weight in the scale of probability, and in all it is very apposite 
for illustration, provided it be not pushed beyond its legitimate 
boundaries. 

Setting this aside, as quite irrelevant to the question, we would 
ask, is the present state of existence, or are the present objects 
with which we are conversant, sufficient to satisfy the cravings 
of this invisible being P We may take, for instance, the appetite 
for the acquisition of knowledge. That the u intima arcana,” 
the mysterious operations of nature, the wonderful effects of 

H 


58 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


art, the interesting secrets of animal economy, the striking 
phenomena of our mental constitution, and, above all, our de¬ 
pendence upon a superior Being, a knowledge of his attributes, 
and our own probable relation to other states of existence— 
that these and many other objects, are sufficiently adapted to 
awaken our curiosity, and give birth to rational investigation, 
need not be insisted upon; yet, wide and unlimited as the 
range of philosophical inquiry may be, the mind bears an exact 
correspondence to its external relations; its amplitude is in¬ 
creased by the dimensions of the objects which come under its 
contemplation, and its native vigour is strengthened by grap¬ 
pling with difficulties. 

This is not the case with any of the inferior animals of 
creation. All their actions, however striking, may be traced to 
natural instinct, or at least, to something superadded,—the force 
of habit or imitation. Continuous reasoning and induction—the 
faculty of drawing one truth from another, is a chain w hich does 
not lie within their grasp. Such a faculty is the property of 
reason alone, and reason is the high “ prerogative of man” Since 
human reason is therefore progressive, and no limits can be 
fixed to its acquisitions—and since we are under the adminis¬ 
tration of a Being who is possessed of infinite wisdom, as well as 
benevolence; such a state of existence, and a being so exalted, 
evidently draw our attention from imagining that the present 
scene is the whole with which we are to be connected. When 
we see faculties that appear to be destined for higher objects, 
we naturally suppose that they will sometime or other be brought 
into contact with them. Every other creature, however low in 
the scale of creation, is still able to satisfy those desires with 
which it has been invested by its omnipotent Creator. But 
shall man, the great masterpiece of creation, be the only ano¬ 
maly in the universe? shall he be the only solitary being to 
whom nature has been unjust? shall he be cursed with endless 
superfluities—with capacities for which there is no adequate 
sphere of operation ? Shall the soul which seems destined as “ on 
a boundless theatre to run the great career of justice,” be anni¬ 
hilated at the very commencement of its “mighty journeyings?” 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


59 


W ill the instinct, the reason, the hopes, and the desires of man 
be for ever at variance with his condition? will his thirst for 
knowledge and happiness be for ever tantalized with “ unreal 
mockery?” Will the “beau ideal ” of bliss be for ever a phan¬ 
tom, destined to allure the imagination, yet elude the grasp ? 
“The soul (says Seneca) has one argument for its divinity, in 
that it has a longing after things that are divine.” 

* * “ Else wherefore burns, 

In mortal bosoms, this unquenched hope, 

That breathes from day to day sublimer things, 

And mocks possession? Wherefore darts the mind, 

With such resistless ardour, to embrace 
Majestic forms, impatient to be free. 

Proud of the strong contention of her toil. 

Proud to be daring? * * 

* * “ Why departs she wide 

From the dull track and journey of her times, 

To grasp the good she knows not? in the field 
Of things which may be, in the spacious field 
Of science, potent arts, or dreadful arms, 

To raise up scenes in which her own desires 
Contented may repose,—when things which are 
Pall on the temper like a twice-told tale.” i 

• 4. Forcible as the arguments may be when drawn from the 
physical and intellectual nature of man, they are still more so 
when we have recourse to his moral. That we are under a 
moral administration, is a position which we take for granted, 
and one upon which we will not dwell at present, lest we should 
anticipate what more properly belongs to another and a subse¬ 
quent dissertation. It must also be conceded that this admi¬ 
nistration is carried on by a wise and benevolent Being, one of 
whose illustrious attributes, is strict and impartial justice. “ For 
the work of a man shall he render unto him, and cause every 
man to find according to his ways; yea, surely God will not 
do wickedly, neither will the Almighty pervert judgment.” 
When we therefore appeal to facts, and consider the actual 
administration of the moral system, what, we may ask, taking 


i Akenside’s Pleasures of the Imagination. 






60 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


it as a question of mere probabilities, is the most satisfactory 
conclusion ? It is true that we see, in very many instances, the 
outline, or, as Lord Bacon would term it, the gcvvnvinciTit ac¬ 
complishment” of a moral administration; but, we ask, is the 
portrait drawn to the life? is there the proper light and shade, 
or are they appropriately bestowed upon their several objects? 
Such questions as these no man will answer in the affirmative, 
or at least, no man, who has studied the history of his own and 
past ages, or who has taken the most cursory survey of what is 
passing around him. When we see the martyr, one whose life 
has been comparatively innocent, and entirely devoted to the 
promotion of the welfare of his fellow-creatures,—when we see 
him struggling with the stake, and contending with the flames, 
while, at the same time, his persecutor is revelling in all the 
pomp and luxury of life, can we for a moment suppose that 
justice is “abroad” in the earth? In vain is it to say, that the 
world is carried on according to general laws!—in vain is it to 
say, that we shall meet with the same difficulties in the admi¬ 
nistration of civil justice, and that individual interests must 
uniformly give way to general good! With respect to political 
bodies, this, we allow, is the case and must be; but we consider 
it as a defect, even in them—a defect which originates from the 
ignorance, vices, passions, and infirmities of the sjmcies in gene¬ 
ral; and which consequently renders all hope of absolute per¬ 
fection, a mere chimera. This, however, we cannot apply to the 
Deity. His omnipotence is commensurate with the rest of his 
attributes, and his attributes are commensurate with infinity 
and perfection. “ And can the Being who has introduced such 
order and harmony into the whole economy and course of na¬ 
ture, be indifferent to the disorder that pervades the moral 
world; to virtue writhing beneath the iron hand of oppression; 
to vice triumphant, raising its head, and defying the face of 
heaven; to deeds of foulest aspect, unseen by mortal eye; to 
crimes of blackest malignity, of which no human law takes any 
cognizance, and no human power requireth vengeance? No, it 
cannot be. There must be an harmony yet to be disclosed; 
there is—there must be something immortal. But in this great 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


61 


inquiry shall we allow nothing to the operations of mincl itself, 
to the power that we feel within, which revolts from the thought 
of ceasing to be ? Whence the sublime conception of surviving 
the wreck of matter? Whence the might that animates the 
good man, while with every fibre quivering in death, he exults 
in the prospect of immortality ? Whence the arrow that rankles 
in the breast, when the stoutest mind has been wounded by deep 
remorse ? Whence the pang unseen by human eye, and un¬ 
known to human ken, that can chill the heart which never fear¬ 
ed before, and make it shrink with all the terror of childhood 
from the stillness of the tomb ? Can this be his final stage of 
existence? No, it cannot be. They have reasoned well who 
have told us, that in all these workings of a mighty mind, there 
is—there must be something immortal.” 1 

If we bestow a little more attention than usual upon the pre¬ 
sent investigation, our only apology must be found in the im¬ 
portance of the subject. While man is constituted as he is at 
present, surely, it never can be considered as an insignificant 
question, whether he exists merely for the sake of transmitting 
his existence to his successors, or whether, on the other hand, 
his conduct here, may not have an influence upon his condition 
hereafter? If there be no future state, the existence and super¬ 
intending providence of a Deity, are questions of very little 
importance, and man may well be styled, in the language of the 
satirist, the “ jest and riddle of the world.” But if there be 
a future state, then, every thing is harmony and consistency; 
that bright “ track of intellectual and moral splendour,” which 
he is hereafter to travel—that land, where the “ sun promises 
a glorious morrow,” reflects back its radiance upon his earthly 
career, by assimilating him more closely to the dignity of supe¬ 
rior Intelligences, and connecting his brief span of existence 
here, with the final destiny which awaits him. 

“How close he presses on the angel’s wing ! 

Which is the seraph?—which the child of clay?” 2 


1 Kaleidoscope. 2 Young. 



62 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

SECT. II. 

1. It is more easy to comprehend a truth, than to discover it, 
2. The arguments in proof of the soul’s immortality not so 
strongly felt by the ancient philosophers as the modern. 3. 
They had no accurate notions of the soul’s immateriality. 

4. Their metaphysical arguments were not very convincing. 

5. Those drawn from the sublimity of our faculties, do not 
appear to have been felt as demonstrative. 6. Their ignorance 
of the origin of evil, darkened the argumen t drawn from the 
moral disorders of the present world. 7. Upon the supposi¬ 
tion of a future state, it still had its difficulties. 

1. We shall now proceed to consider what we have laid 
down as the second part of our subject, viz., the opinions of the 
ancient philosophers on the immortality of the soul. This w ill 
be a work of some difficulty—difficulty which does not originate 
merely from the nature of the subject considered abstractedly, 
but from those various and almost endless modifications of error 
which must always be the inevitable result of theories which are 
not conducted upon general principles. 

The cpiestion of the immortality of the soul appears to us, 
who have long enjoyed the light of Revelation, to be very sim¬ 
ple. When a truth has been once made known to us, it is very 
seldom that we feel a due sense of the obligation which we owe 
to the first discoverer;—it is very seldom that we think of him 
who fairly brought the subject within our grasp, and bestowed 
upon us the chain of argument which has conducted us to our 
conclusions. “ Of an opinion which is no longer doubted, its 
evidence ceases to be examined. Of an art universally practis¬ 
ed, the first teacher is forgotten. Learning once made popular, 
is no longer learning; it has the appearance of something which 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


63 


we liave bestowed upon ourselves, as the dew appears to rise 
from the field it refreshes.” 1 We march forward like Patro- 
clus to the contest—we admire our own agility and vigour in 
the wielding of our weapons—we wonder at the ease with which 
we are able to throw down the “strong holds” of our adversa¬ 
ries; but, in the triumph of our self-congratulation, we forget 
that for all our successes, we are indebted to the armour of 
Achilles. “It is gradually and almost insensibly (says Dr. 
Brown), that truths diffuse themselves. At first admired and 
adopted by a few, who are capable of comparing the present 
with the jmst, and who gladly own them as additions to former 
knowledge,—from them communicated to a wider circle, who 
Veceive them without discussion, as if familiar and long known; 
and, at length, in this widening progress, becoming so nearly 
universal, as almost to seem effects of a natural instinctive law 
of human thought; like the light, which we readily ascribe to 
the sun, as it first flows directly from him, and forces his image 
on our sight, but which, when reflected from object to object, 
soon ceases to remind us of its origin, and seems almost to be 
a part of the very atmosphere which we breathe.” 2 

2. Before we proceed to the direct question before us, it will 
be necessary to make some important drawbacks, with respect 
to the arguments which we have already adduced in support of 
this great and fundamental doctrine. We do not say that their 
cogency can be affected by the reasonings of any philosopher, 
however celebrated; but that is not the point in hand, and since 
we are inquiring into the existence of an opinion—to what 
extent it was held—with what degree of unbelief, doubt, and 
certainty it has been received—with what other opinions and 
errors it has been connected—and what influence has been 
exerted upon it by the various branches of the current theo¬ 
logy of the age; it will be necessary to review some of these 
points, in order that we may have a more clear conception of the 
strength of the evidence, as it appeared to them, and developed 
itself in their reasonings. 


i Johnson. 2 Philosophy of the Human Mind, Vol. 1, p. 26. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


64 

3. We have before observed how important it is to have just 
views respecting the immateriality of the soul, before we can 
think of engaging with any degree of success in the present dis¬ 
cussion. Not, as we have stated over and over again, that we 
think that the immortality of the soul originates from its imma¬ 
teriality, as an effect from its cause; but when it is a question 
of mere probabilities, the establishment of the position, that the 
soul, though connected with an organized system, is still a dis¬ 
tinct substance, appears to be an important acquisition. So 
long as we rest in materialism, what arguments can we bring 
forward to prove our immortality? We know that the body 
dies, and if thought be the function of our corporeal system, or 
any of its constituent parts, the natural conclusion is, that this 
function will perish along with the agent. On the immateriality 
of the soul, a subject which is so vitally important to every other 
speculative opinion and the whole theory of morals, we may 
state in broad and unqualified terms, that it involves such a 
sublimity and daringness of conception, as was never reached by 
any of the Pagan philosophers. We do not deny that we may 
meet with expressions, which may seem to indicate something 
of the kind. We may occasionally hear them speaking of some 
subtle and ethereal substance—of “ matter sublimated to mind.” 
Some of them may allow that human souls are invested with 
something like “ divinity,” 

u Igneus-vigor, et celestis origo;” 1 

Yet, after a closer investigation, we shall soon find that their con¬ 
ceptions are fettered with that, which, however refined, is still 
extended and divisible. In confirmation of this we have nothing- 

o 

to do but cite a passage from Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations , 
where this great master of science is enumerating the various 
opinions which were held by the philosophers of Greece and 
Rome, upon this abstruse subject. 

“ As to the nature of the soul, its local residence, and whence it 
derives its origin, philosophers are very far from being unanimous. 


1 Virg. iEn. 





65 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 

» 

Some conceive the heart ( cor ) to be the soul; hence men are 

called ‘ vecordes , excordes , concordesque; ’ -and we have in 

Ennius, 

‘Egregie cordatus homo catus yElius Sextus.’ 

Empedocles thinks that the blood cordi suffusum constitutes 
the soul; but others conceive that the residence of the soul is in 
the heart, and others in the brain. Others think that the soul 
is anima , as the name signifies,—since animus is so called from 
anima . 1 Zeno is of opinion that the soul is of a fiery nature. 
* * * Aristoxenus, a musician as well as a philosopher, thinks 
that there is an intensio corporis , the same as in music and sing¬ 
ing, which we call harmony; and that in this manner various 
motions are excited by the nature and configuration of the 
human body, as sounds in music. * * * The same had been 

said long before by Plato, -who conceived that the soul was 

three-fold, the principal part of which is reason, which he ima¬ 
gined to have its residence in the head, as being the citadel;— 
he placed the other two parts, which he reckons subservient to 
reason, namely anger and cupidity, the former in the breast, the 
other subter precordia . * * * But Dicaiarchus maintains 
that the soul is nothing—that it is a mere empty name—that 
neither man nor beast is endowed with any thing of the kind, 
and that all that power and energy, by which we act and think, 
are equally diffused through all living bodies, and cannot be 
separated from them, quippe quae nulla est ; —that there is nothing 
but one simple and uniform body, of such a configuration, that 
it performs its functions temperatione naturae . Aristotle, 
when he had laid down the four elements of which all things 
are compounded, thinks that there is a fifth essence ( naturam ), 
which constitutes the mind; because memory, invention, loving, 
hating, etc., which are the properties of the soul, cannot be 
found in any of the other four. As he is in want of a name for 
the fifth, he applies to it an expression which he seems to have 
coined himself, namely, quasi quamdam continuatam 


' i ‘ Ventus sive Aer, ’ &c.— Davis. 
I 







66 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


motionem et perennem. 1 Except some have slipped my memory, 
these are almost all the opinions on the subject. As for Demo¬ 
critus, and others of the same school, we shall omit them, 
since there is nothing’ which they are not capable of doing by 
the assistance of their atoms.* Which of these opinions is true, 
some God must tell us,—which of them is most like truth, this 
is an important question.” 1 2 

After this judicious, but mournful reflection of Cicero, it will 
be superfluous for us to say any thing further upon the subject. 
It is not our business here at present to refute the opinions 
which we have adduced, nor yet to point out their inconsistency, 
of which there is no necessity; but merely to hint at the influ¬ 
ence which such vague and indistinct notions must have exerted 
upon the probabilities of a future state of existence. Such ideas 
of the nature and essence of the soul, appear to us quite irre- 
concileable with its immortality; but though our view of the 
evidence is not the point in hand, we cannot but think that 
such ill-digested theories must have darkened, even to their con¬ 
ceptions, a truth, which, if their views on the spirituality of the 
soul had been more accurate and philosophical, would, to say 
the least, have been more tangible, and the probability, that the 
soul might be capable of existing after the destruction of the 
organized body, with which it is connected, would have derived 
additional strength and clearness. 

4. But however confused their notions might be upon this 
subject, yet, Plato in his PJucdo and Cicero in his Tuscu- 
lan Disputations, avail themselves of the language and science 
of metaphysics, in proof of the immortality of the soul. We 
shall cite the passage, in the words of Cicero. —“ Quod semper 
movetur, eternum est; quod autem motum adfert alicui, quodque 
ipsum agitatur alicunde, quando jinem habet motus, vivendi jinem 


1 voce, quantum assequor, philosophus nihil intellexit, prseter 

formam, quae corpus unanimereddit, animarum, rationis-que particeps, etc._ 

Davis. 

* See Appendix, Note 4. 

2 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations, p. 16—21. Ed. Davis. Consult the 
Editor’s Notes. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


67 


habeat necesse est. Solum igitur, quod seipsum movet, quia nun- 
quam deseritur a se, nunquam ne moveri quidem desinit. Quine ti- 
am ceteris, quae moventur, hie fons, hoc principium est movendi. 
Principii autem nulla est origo: nam e principio oriuntur omnia: 
ipsum autem nulla ex re alia nasci potest: nec enim esset id prin¬ 
cipium, quod gigneretur aliunde. Quod si nunquam oritur, nec oc- 
cidit quidem unquam: nam principium extinctum, nec ipsum ah 
alio renascetur, nec ex se aliud creabit: si quidem necesse est a 
principio oriri omnia. Ita Jit ut motus principium ex eo sit, 
quod ipsum a se movetur. Id autem nec nasci potest, nec mori: 
vel concidat omne ccelum omnisque terra et consistat necesse est, nec 
vim ullam nanciscatur, qua primo impulsa movetur. Cum pateat 
igitur, eternum id esse, quod se ipsum moveat; quis est qui hanc 
naturam animis esse tributam neget P Inanimum est enim omne, 
quod pulsu agitatur externo. Quod autem est animal, id motu 
cietur interiore, et suo. Af'am hcec est propria natura animi at- 
quevis: quee si est una ex omnibus, quee se ipsa semper moveat, 
neque nata certe est, et eterna est.” 1 

We do not pretend to dive into all the mysteries of this pro¬ 
found reasoning-, but it is one out of many instances, which 
may serve to justify a remark of D’Alembert, “ that there may 
be a great deal of philosophizing, with very little philosophy. ” 
To shew the false assumption which it makes of the eternity of 
the soul a parte ante, would be to wander from the subject; for, 
in our present inquiry, it makes no matter what arguments are 
adduced by the philosophers, but with what degree of conviction 
they are proposed and received, and whether they were suffici¬ 
ent to commend the belief of this great doctrine to rational and 
sober inquirers. In illustration of this, we need only observe 
that Socrates, who makes use of the argument we have just 
cited, and who, we must allow, spoke the most hopefully of any 
of the ancient philosophers on this subject, had still his doubts 
and his fears, and appeared to be more desirous that the doc¬ 
trine should be true, than convinced by the soundness of his 
reasoning. 


1 Tusculan Disputations, p. 45— 6, Ed. Davis .—Phsed. p. 344, Ed. Luyd~ 



68 


i 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


5. The argument upon which Cicero 1 delights most to dwell, 
and to which he most successfully applies his stores of eloquence, 
is that drawn from the faculties and the capacities of the hu¬ 
man soul. “There were a few sages of Greece and Rome (says 
Mr. Gibbon), who had conceived a more exalted, and in some 
respects, a juster idea of human nature; though it must be con¬ 
fessed that in the sublime inquiry, their reason had been often 
guided by their imagination, and that their imagination had been 
prompted by their vanity. When they viewed with complacen¬ 
cy the extent of their own mental powers,—when they exercised 
the various faculties of memory, of fancy, and of judgment, in 
the most profound speculations, or the most important labours,— 
and when they reflected on the desire of fame, which transport¬ 
ed them into future ages, far beyond the bounds of death and 
of the grave; they were unwilling to confound themselves with 
the beasts of the field, or to suppose that a being for whose dig¬ 
nity they entertained the most sincere admiration, could be 
limited to a spot of earth, and to a few years of duration.” Af¬ 
ter enumerating some errors with which they connected the 
immortality of the soul, the same writer proceeds:— 

“ A doctrine, thus removed beyond the senses and experience 
of mankind, might serve to amuse the leisure of a philosophic 
mind; or, in the silence of solitude, it might sometimes impart 
a ray of comfort to desponding virtue; but the faint impression 
which had been received in the schools, was soon obliterated by 
the commerce and business of active life. We are sufficiently 
acquainted with the eminent persons who flourished in the age 
of Cicero, and of the first Caesars, with their actions, their 
characters, and their motives, to be assured that their conduct 
in this life was never regulated by any serious conviction of the 
rewards and punishments of a future state. At the bar and in 
the senate of Rome, the ablest orators were not apprehensive of 
giving oflence to their hearers, by exposing that doctrine as an 
idle and extravagant opinion, which was rejected with con- 


1 See Cicero’s Tusculan Diputations.—His Treatise de Senectute, and the 
Somnium Scipionis. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


69 


tempt by every man of a liberal education and understanding.” 1 

(>. The last argument which we adduced in the preceding 
section, was drawn from those anomalies which are so pro¬ 
minent in the moral adminstration of the universe, and which 
seem to indicate a future state of retribution. This, of all 
arguments, is the most popular, as it lies level to every capacity. 
But of this argument, which is so weighty‘in the scale, the phi¬ 
losophers of Greece and Rome, could by no means avail them¬ 
selves. Before we can shew with any degree of evidence, that 
the suffering of virtue and the insolence of vice demand a future 
state of rewards and punishments, we must be able to give 
a reason why virtue has ever been attended with suffering, and 
why misery has ever been introduced into the physical and 
moral world. If a philosopher can give no reason why it has 
been introduced at all, it is evident that he can draw no argu¬ 
ments from the facts before him,—however alarming, however 
inconsistent they may be with all our ideas of impartial justice,— 
it is evident, we say, that he can bring forward no arguments 
which will prove that there must be an hereafter. If one who 
is guided by the mere light of reason, cannot account for that 
suffering which every-where surrounds him—if he cannot ac¬ 
count for any of those “ ills which flesh is heir to;” except Re¬ 
velation step between to fill the chasm, and explain to him the 
introduction of sin, and its never-failing concomitant, misery, 
how can he infer a future state from the moral disorders of the 
present ? The origin of evil, was one of the most perplexing 
questions that ever agitated the Oriental or the Greek schools. 
It was an investigation which called forth the utmost vigour of 
their faculties—“ faculties which have been the admiration of 
all succeeding ages;” yet, however high they might be borne 
upon the pinions of their proud and aspiring reason, the question 
was still beyond their intellectual grasp, and it was either 
classed among the “ o,\vtol oivopiou, ” or attempted to be explain¬ 
ed by theories destructive of the most illustrious attributes of 


i Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Vol. 2, p. 294—6. 
8vo. Ed. See Cicero pro Cluentio. 




70 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


the Deity. We cannot give a clearer idea of their ignorance on 
this point, than by observing, that in many cases, the disorders 
of the moral administration of the universe, instead of indicating 
to them a future state of existence, gave birth to absolute athe¬ 
ism, or at least, the denial of a superintending Providence. “ It 
comes to pass (says Simplicius), that such who have no 
grounded belief of a Deity, when they observe the miseries of 
good men, and the tranquillity and felicity of bad men, they 
regard not the common notions they have of a Deity, and are 
ready to cry out with the tragedian, 

‘ ToAju,S xaTfi'ETEiv ror’ &X Eicrtv ©EOt, 

Kazoi yccp svTV^Svreg E7Tk7rXnTTS(n ps . } 

* Shall I not dare to say there are no Gods, 

When those do prosper who have injur’d me ?’ i 

“And it is observable (says Stillingfleet), that the most of 
those who have taken occasion amongst the Heathens to question 
Providence, have done it upon some remarkable injury, which 
they have conceived to be done to themselves. So Diagoras 
resolves to set up for an atheist, because the perjured person 
was not struck dead in the place. ” z 

7. But let us suppose for a moment, that the simple fact of 
the immortality of the soul, was placed within the grasp of un¬ 
assisted reason; yet our inquiries are not at an end—there are 
still other difficulties, and it becomes a question of anxious 
solicitude, what u ill be the nature of that future state of exist¬ 
ence which awaits us beyond the boundaries of our earthly 
duration? It is mere childishness in a philosopher, who 
professes to be guided by the pure light of reason, to talk at 
random about a future state of unmixed and eternal felicity. 
This would be to substitute imagination, in the room of proba¬ 
bility derived from facts, and to give us his wishes instead of 
his arguments. His inferences can only be drawn from the 
sphere of his own observations, and except he can shew reasons 


1 Simplic. Comment, in Epictet. Cap. 38, p. 223. 

2 Stillingfleet’s Origines Sacrse. Vol. 2, p. 87. 






LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


71 


why misery and suffering have been introduced into the present 
world, it is evident that he can shew no reasons why they should 
not be introduced into the next. The present is the only 
model after which he can form a future one, and we would ask, 
is the present state a state of felicity ? It is true, that felicity 
is our “being’s end and aim;” but have any attained to it by 
the mere light of nature ? We are all toiling for the port of 
happiness and the haven of repose, but the port is still receding, 
while our vessel is disabled by the storms of disappointment, 
and wrecked upon a foreign coast! Joy beyond joy rises before 
us in endless perspective, but every joy vanishes at our approach, 
or withers in our grasp ! Have we been labouring in the mines 
of knowledge, and “digging for wisdom, as for hid treasure?” 
Alas, we have found too late, by bitter experience, what the wise 
man could have told us long ago, that knowledge is not hap¬ 
piness, and he that “ increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow! ” 
Have we been climbing up the mount of glory ? Perhaps suc¬ 
cess has crowned our efforts, and we have reached the summit. 
But where is happiness? Ambition is an empty nothing! 
Glory is a bubble! Honour but an airy title! There is still a 
restlessness which nothing can satisfy—a vacuum which nothing 
can fill! Thus it is when man has almost finished his course, 
he is still seeking for what he cannot find; and, if he take a 
retrospective view of those charming and delightful prospects, 
which promised such deliriums of joy in the spring of life, when 
his spirits were high, and his pulse beat quick, he finds them 
converted, by the magic hand of experience, into a wide and 
dreary waste of “ vanity and vexation of spirit! ” But the 
picture does not end here. We must take into our account all 
those grovelling and degrading labours to which our race is 
doomed;—for “ cursed is the ground for man’s sake, and in the 
sweat of his brow he shall eat his bread! ” We must add to 
these all those acute pains and diseases, all the infirmities of 
nature which we inherit. Man comes into the world with a 
shriek, amidst pain and suffering; and, having finished a term 
of wretched existence, the last sigh is extorted from him—the 
fibres of his heart are rent by the ruthless hand of death, which 


72 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


spares neither sex nor age, youth nor beauty, virtue nor inno¬ 
cence ! Is man, then, happy as an individual P View him as a 
member of society, and the hue of the portrait is still deepening! 
Look at the infatuated priest, who is ready to plunge the ensan¬ 
guined steel into the bosom of a human victim!—Look at the 
haughty tyrant, hurling his imperious mandates from the throne 
of usurpation, and dooming a whole nation to the wrongs of 
slavery, injustice, and oppression!—Cast your eyes on the war¬ 
rior, wading through seas of human blood, and exulting amidst 
the wreck of life, whilst the dolorous gale is laden with the 
sighs of widows and orphans, the groans of the wounded and 
dying! We again ask the question, is man happy? No, the 
very elements have conspired to increase the aggregate of hu¬ 
man suffering! The “ goodly ” prospect of the harvest is blight¬ 
ed, and the “ fruit of the olive-tree fails! ”—Famine is stalking 
through the land with gigantic strides; the infectious contagion 
is spreading through the atmosphere, and death is inhaled at 
every pore!—The wind and the storm are “fulfilling his word!”— 
The sky lowers; the thunder mutters its accents of wrath; 
whilst the wild tornado is sweeping the earth with its growl of 
vengeance!—The volcano is belching forth its fiery entrails, 
whilst a river of liquid lava is destroying the labours, the hopes, 
and the prospects of the ill-fated cultivator!—The very pillars 
of the earth are trembling; the globe is “reeling to and fro like 
a drunken man,” and at last engulphs in its womb the relics of 
its miserable offspring! 

This, we allow, is the dark side of the portrait; but still they 
are facts, and as such, they can neither be contradicted by the 
page of history, nor the testimony of experience. When we are 
therefore speculating upon the future condition of man, and 
profess to be guided solely by the light of reason, we must take 
into our account the more alarming features of the divine admi¬ 
nistration, as well as the more attractive attributes of benevo¬ 
lence and mercy. A Seneca may tell us that the sufferings of 
the virtuous in this life, are necessary for the refinement of their 
virtue; and, for any thing that a Seneca can shew to the 
contrary, the same moral administration may exhibit itself in a 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


73 


still more repulsive attitude, when we have been ushered into 
other states of existence. “ Further discoveries may be made; 
but they may go only to establish this point, that the apparent 
severity of its dispensations in the present life, are quite con¬ 
sistent with justice, and even the further infliction of punish¬ 
ment with goodness itself, because other moral agents may be 
benefitted by the example. * * * If it be just that man should 
be punished here, it may be required by the same just regard 
to the principles of a strict moral government, that he should 
be punished hereafter.” 1 

“The doctrine of a life to come (says Mr. Balguy), some 
persons will say, is a doctrine of natural religion, and can never 
therefore be properly alleged to shew the importance of Re¬ 
velation. They judge perhaps from the frame of the world, 
that the present system is imperfect; they see designs in it 
not yet completed; and they think they have grounds for ex¬ 
pecting another state in which these designs shall be farther 
carried on, and brought to a conclusion more worthy of infinite 
wisdom. I am not concerned to dispute the justness of this 
reasoning, nor do I wish to dispute it. But how far will it 
reach ? Will it lead to the Christian doctrine of a judgment to 
come ? will it give us the prospect of an eternity of happiness P 
Nothing of all this. It shews us only that death is not the end 
of our beings; that we are likely to pass hereafter into other 
systems, more favourable than the present, to the great ends of 
God’s providence, the virtue and happiness of his intelligent 
creatures. But into what systems we are to be removed; what 
new systems are to be presented to us, either of pleasure or 
pain; what new parts we shall have to act; and to what trials 
and temptations we may yet be exposed ; on all these subjects 
we know just nothing. That our happiness for ever depends 
upon our conduct here, is a most important proposition, which 
we learn only from Rerelation. ,y 2 


i Watson’s Divine Authority, &c. p. 11. 


2 Balguy. Disc. ft. 



7-1 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

SECT. III. 


1. The doctrine of the immortality of the soul neutralized by the 
opinion which ivas held by many of the Greek Schools, concern¬ 
ing the absorption of the human soul after death, into the 
essence of the Deity. 2. The notion of a periodical destruc¬ 
tion and renovation of the universe equally pernicious. 3. The 
uncertainty of many individual philosophers specified, but 
particularly of Cicero. 4. The poetical mythology concerning 
Tartarus and Elysium, regarded as a tissue of vulgar fables. 

1. After the preliminary remarks which were made in the 
last section upon those arguments which were either omitted, 
adopted, or misapplied by the Pagan philosophers, we have 
prepared the way for taking a cursory glance at those theories 
on the immortality of the soul, which were most generally re¬ 
ceived. We have already alluded to the opinion of the pre- 
existence of the soul, which was held by Pythagoras and Plato, 
as well as the schools of Aristotle and Zeno. This may ap¬ 
pear to us a little strange, and modern philosophers, who pride 
themselves so much upon their superiority, and imagine that 
those exalted notions on theological subjects, which are now so 
generally current, are to be ascribed to the successive elabora¬ 
tion of reason, and a more rational plan of investigation, rather 
than to the light which has been bestowed upon us by Revela¬ 
tion—Such philosophers may suppose, that their predecessors 
had too little regard for system,, and chose rather to follow 
their own theories to whatever conclusions they might lead them, 
than listen to the plain and simple dictates of reason. But let 
us only consider for a moment what other opinions were held 
along with it, and we may soon see that such a conclusion 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


75 


must be the inevitable result. It was a well-known axiom, both 
in the Oriental and Greek schools, and, in fact, one which was 
never disputed, that “ex nihilo nihil,” “nothing could be produc¬ 
ed from nothing.” Hence they supposed that the matter of 
the universe was an independent substance, and had existed 
from all eternity along with the Deity. Though they held that 
it was impossible for God to create matter, yet, since they saw 
that the physical universe exhibited the most admirable speci¬ 
mens of unlimited wisdom, as well as benevolence, they could 
not do less than attribute to the workmanship of the Deity 
those endless varieties and modifications of matter with which 
they were every-where surrounded. What they had abstracted 
from his power, they could not deny to his wisdom. They 
found in themselves faculties somewhat analogous to the latter, 
though immeasurably inferior; but creation, in the proper 
sense, was looked upon as impossible. 

Since our philosophers, therefore, could not conceive how 
matter could be created out of nothing by the Deity, there is 
less wonder that they should extend the same limitation of his 
power to the existence of spiritual substances. Whatever might 
be their peculiar notions, with respect to the nature and essence 
of the soul, they could not but perceive that those faculties with 
which it was endowed, were of too exalted a character to be the 
attributes of mere unrefined matter; and consequently some 
other method must be adopted, in order to account for the ori¬ 
gin of a substance, which, though not in their ideas completely 
distinct, was yet of a class infinitely superior. This led them to 
invade the very nature of Deity itself. The existence of matter 
they could easily dispense with, by imagining that it was eter¬ 
nal. But with respect to the soul; since their own conscious¬ 
ness could only trace back their existence to a certain period—a 
period beyond which no human penetration could pierce; and 
since they could never persuade themselves so much as even to 
conjecture that there might be a fallacy in their favourite axiom 
“ ex nihilo nihil ” which they conceived to be an insurmountable 
barrier to the fiat of the Almighty—it is evident that there was 
no other way left for them, but to assert that the human soul was 


76 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


a portion of the Deity, and separated from his essence. Hence 
Antoninus calls the mind ©stag aTrojuotpa? /xeto%ov, “ a partaker 
of the Divine nature.” Plato and Epictetus style it t« ©e* 
(jLEpo$,“u part of God.” In reference to this opinion, St. Augustine 
says, “ we believe the soul to be a creature, and not a portion of 
God, made by him, but not from him.” “ Animam Dei non 
particulam esse, sed creaturam credimus; ah illo, non de illo 
factum.” 1 And also Epiphanius, “ we think that the soul is 
neither a part of the Deity, nor yet of a different nature from 
Him who breathed it into our frames.” Outs ^e P o? 0e« Xeyoptv 
Etvcu rr)v «rs aXXoTptov m Ejj.tyvo-YicroC'nos, 2 ' as the learned Gata- 

ker corrects it from E/x^vo-Tj^aroj.* 

These brief testimonies are sufficient to shew that the ancient 
fathers understood the Pagan philosophers in that light; and 
we have cited them merely because some of the moderns have 
been inclined to dispute the inference, and to think that the 
above expressions are to be looked upon as mere rage of meta¬ 
phor. “But that the reader (says the learned Warburton) 
may not suspect these kinds of phrases, * * * which perpetually 
occur in the writings of the ancients, to be only figurative 
expressions, and not to be measured by the severe standard of 
metaphysical propriety, he is desired to take notice of the con¬ 
sequence drawn from this principle, and universally held by 
antiquity,—that the soul was eternal, a parte ante, as well as a 
parte post, which the Latins well express by the word sempiter- 
nus. But when the ancients are said to hold the pre and^osG 
existence of the soul, and therefore to attribute a proper eternity 
to it, we must not suppose that they understood it to be eternal 
in its distinct and peculiar excellence; but that it was discerpted 
from the substance of God in time, and would in time be re¬ 
joined and resolved into it again, which they explained by a 
bottle’s being filled with sea-water, that, swimming there awhile, 
on the bottle’s breaking, flowed in again, and mingled with the 
common mass. 3 They only differed about the time of this 


1 Epist. 157. 2 , in Ancoreto, Cap. 55. * See Appendix, Note 5. 

3 ‘Interim tamen vix ulli fuere (quae human ae mentis caligo atque imbecil- 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


77 


re-union and resolution, the greater part holding it to be at 
death; but the Pythagoreans, not till after many transmigra¬ 
tions. The Platonists went between these two opinions, and 
rejoined pure and unpolluted souls, immediately on death, to 
the unpolluted spirit. But those which had contracted much 
defilement, were sent into a succession of other bodies to purge 
and purify them, before they returned to their parent substance.” 
“Thus philosophy refined upon the doctrine of immortality, un¬ 
til it converted it into annihilation itself, for so it is in the most 
absolute sense, as to distinct consciousness or personality.” * 1 
Man is far removed beyond the fear either of reward or punish¬ 
ment, or rather it is mere folly to mention them, when he has 
lost his own individual identity, by being absorbed into the 
essence of the Deity. 

2. But there is another opinion of equal antiquity and extent, 
which was very generally received amongst the Pagan philoso¬ 
phers, and which was equally subversive of this great and 
important doctrine, namely, a periodical destruction of the 
universe by fire. In this point there happens to be a singular 
coincidence betwixt Revelation and Pagan philosophy, though 
the votaries of the latter have carried their notions to an extra¬ 
vagant length. It is, however, probable that the ancient philo¬ 
sophers have borrowed here a little, either directly from Revela¬ 
tion—their researches in the East, or from a tradition coeval 
with the world itself. It is nevertheless true that we meet with 
no indications in the Pentateuch, that the revelation of any 
particular method of destroying the world was ever vouchsafed 
to the ancestors of our race; but an omission of this kind is by 
no means a conclusive argument, and the less so, because Ge¬ 
nesis is a very rapid sketch, and when we have abstracted the 
creation, and a few subsequent events, it is to be considered 


litas est), qui non inciderint in errorem ilium de refusione in Animam mundi. 
Nimirum, sicut existimarunt singulorum animas particulas esse animae mun- 
danae quarum quaelibet suo corpore, ut aqua vase, effluere, ac animae mundi, 
e qua deducta fuerit, iterum uniri.’ Gassendi Animadvers. in Lib. 10. Diog. 
Laertii. p. 550. 

i Watson’s Divine Authority of the Holy Scriptures. Vol, 1. p. 49. 




78 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


merely as an introduction to the Jewish history. For instance, 
we have no information of the prophecy which was delivered by 
Enoch, relative to the judgment, though an inspired apostle has 
set his seal to the truth of it; and, if we allow that a revelation 
had been vouchsafed to this favourite of heaven “ how the Lord 
should come to judge the world with ten thousand of his 
saints,” it certainly requires no great stretch of faith to believe 
that the method of its destruction might have also been revealed. 
However, be this as it may, it is a matter of undoubted certainty 
that the ancient Jews had a knowledge of the subject*—And 
Origen , 1 St. Chrysostom , 2 and Clemens Alexandrinus 3 
think that the doctrine was from thence propagated to the phi¬ 
losophic schools of Greece and Rome. Several allusions to it 
are to be found amongst the poets as well as philosophers. 
Hence Ovid . 4 * 

“ Esse quoque in fatis reminiscitur affore tempus, 

Quo mare, quo tellus, correpta-que regio coeli, 

Ardeat, et mundi moles operosa laboret.” 

“Remembering in the fates a time when fire 
Should to the battlements of heaven aspire, 

When all his blazing worlds above should burn, 

And all th’ inferior globe to cinders turn.” 5 

This doctrine was particularly maintained by the sect of 
the Stoics. 6 “There shall come a time (says Seneca), when 

stars shall rush upon stars, (sidera sideribus). In this grand 
catastrophe of nature all animated beings, except the universal 
Intelligence, men, heroes, demons, and gods shall perish toge¬ 
ther.” 7 With respect to the Stoic sect, this opinion may very 
probably be traced up to its original source. Let us recollect 
for a moment, that Zeno, who was the founder of that school 
(pater Stoicorum, says Cicero), was a native of Citium, which, 
as Suidas tells us, was inhabited by Phenic-ians; and let us at 


* See Appendix, Note 6. 1 Origen contra Celsum, Lib. 4. 

2 In Act. 17. 3 Strom. 5. 4 Metamorph. Lib. 1. 

5 Dryden. 6 See Cicero, De nat. Deor. Lib. 2. 

7 Ad Murciam, c. ult.—See Sophoc. Vol. 2. Fragmenta, Ed. Brunck. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


79 


the same time call to mind that the Phenicians were intimately 
connected with the Jews, and it will no longer appear wonder¬ 
ful, how this opinion might have been propagated among the 
Heathen philosophers, if it is not in fact to be traced up still 
higher, and to be ascribed to those ancient traditions which were 
almost coeval with the world itself; and which, after the con¬ 
fusion of language at Babel, and the dispersion of nations which 
took place in consequence, might have been carried by the sons 
and descendants of Noah, into their different settlements. This 
is more probably the case, since it is to be found amongst the 
systems of modern Paganism, as well as those of antiquity. 

But to return from this digression, which is not imme¬ 
diately connected with our present discourse, yet we may 
observe that the perversion of this doctrine, which took place 
amongst the ancient philosophers, may serve to shew the spirit 
of the Greeks, and exemplify the remark of Plato, " that the 
Greeks borrowed many things from the Barbarians, but that 
they improved what they borrowed, and made them better.” 1 
We might allow, in the present case, that the subject might 
have admitted of some improvement, had it been a mere fiction, 
and introduced to assist the labours of the poet, or to give some 
additional elegance to a philosophical revery; but there can 
be no great deal of improvement, when the very moral of a great 
and important doctrine has been refined away by their subtle 
speculations. Their notions on this subject, were far different 
from those which are inculcated by Revelation. It teaches us 
that the destruction of our present system will be the termina¬ 
tion of our mundane chronology—that after the present, there 
will be no other state of probation and moral discipline—and 
consequently, that our future condition, either of reward or pu¬ 
nishment, will be regulated according to our conduct, during 
the course of our earthly existence. Philosophy, however, went 
beyond this, and instead of being a handmaid to religion, per¬ 
verted its most weighty and important doctrine. It taught its 
disciples, that, though fire would destroy the universe, yet it 


1 Opera, p. 703. Ed. Ficin. Lugd. 1590. 





80 LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 

* 

would merely act as a purifier ; and that though the then-exist¬ 
ing generation would be swept from the face of the earth with 
the “ besom of destruction,” yet nature would rise more glori¬ 
ous from her ruins; for, in the passage which we have quoted 
above from Seneca, he tells us, “the time will come when the 
whole world will be consumed, that it may again be renewed.” 
Yet they still fancied, that however pure the system of nature 
might be, when it had been renovated after this grand catastro¬ 
phe—they still imagined, that corruption would again creep in, 
and pollute the whole aggregate of rational and intelligent 
beings to such a degree, as to render another conflagration and 
another renovation absolutely indispensable, “ Every thing 
was once fire (says Phurnutus the Stoic), and shall be again 
ev Tnpo ^.” 1 Numenius, in Eusebius, tells us, that the world 
shall be destroyed, and after that it shall be “restored to the same 
beauteous order and symmetry, which adorned it previous to its 
destruction,” ?ra?uv SK oivrriv ccttoteXe^o-Qou tyiv <Wjcoc7/x»i<7iv oloc 10 

TrpoTfpov nv. “The Stoics (says Origen), hold, that there will be 
a periodical destruction and renovation of all things,” koctcx, KEpioSov 
EKvrvpucriv t a wavro? kml ccvtv 'sravr 5 araapaAAajcra 

“This, too (says Mr. Watson), is the Brahminical 
notion.” “ The Hindoos are taught to believe that at the end of 
every calpa, creation or formation, all things are absorbed in 
the Deity, and at a stated time the creative power will again be 
called into action.” 3 And though the system of the Budhists 
denies a Creator, yet it holds the same species of revolution. 
“They are of opinion that the universe is eternal, at least, they 
neither know it had a beginning, nor will have an end; that it 
is homogeneous, and composed of an infinite number of similar 
worlds, each of which is a likeness of the other, and each of 
which is in a constant state of alteration; not stationary for a 
moment; at the instant of greatest perfection, beginning to de¬ 
cline, and at the moment of greatest chaotic ruin, beginning to 
regenerate. They compare such changes to a wheel in motion, 
perpetually going round.” 4 


1 TTept ©ewv tyvcrsug. 2 Cont. Celsum. Lib. 4. 

3 Moore’s Hindoo Pantheon. 4 Dr. Davy’s Account of Ceylon. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


81 


3. Alter the remarks which we have now made on the differ¬ 
ent theories which were adopted by one or other of the most 
celebrated schools, it appears to be unnecessary to give a parti¬ 
cular detail of the various and conflicting opinions which were 
held by any particular philosopher on this mysterious subject. 
To make an attempt of this kind, would be merely to collect 
and present to the reader a mass of discordant passages, which, 
inconsistent as it would be with our limits, would be equally as 
unprofitable to the student. In such a collection, we should 
find philosophers not merely contradicting those who belonged 
to another school, or even those of their own, but very frequent¬ 
ly flatly denying what they had before as positively asserted, 
or neutralizing it by other opinions, which they had connected 
with their theological creed. We should find writers of every 
shade and colour, hovering betwixt belief and hope, betwixt 
doubting and uncertainty. Quotations might be produced from 
Aristotle, Democritus, Epicurus, Heraclitus, Caesar, 
Pliny, and even Seneca, who, in the opinion of Erasmus, of 
all Pagan writers, wrote the most like a Christian, 1 which would 
go far enough to shew that the immortality of the soul was 
either totally denied or received, if we may make use of the last 
writer's expression, merely as the doctrine of some great men, 
“ rem gratissimam promittentium magis quamprobantium,” “who 
promised what they could not prove." At one time we hear 
Cicero saying, “Si in hoc erro, fyc.” “ If I err in supposing that 
souls are immortal, I err willingly; nor, while I live, do I wish 
this pleasing error to be wrested from me." At another time we 
hear him saying, “ Expone igitur, nisi molestum est, fyc.” “ Shew 
me first, if you can, and if it be not too troublesome, that souls 
remain after death; or if you cannot prove that, ‘ for it is difficult,’ 
‘est enim arduum ,’ you will shew that there is no evil in death." 2 
At another time we hear him writing to his friend Torquatus, 
“ Sed hxc consolatio levis est; ilia gravior qua te utispero: ego 
certe utor, nec enim dum ero, angar ulla re, cum vacem omni culpa; 


i “ Si legas ilium ut Paganum, scripsit Christiane; si ut Christianum, 

scripsit Paganice.” a Tusc. Disput. 1. 




82 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


et si non ero, sensu omnino care bo.” “ But there is another and a 
far higher consolation, which I hope is your support, as it cer¬ 
tainly is mine. For as long as I preserve my innocence, no¬ 
thing shall give me any trouble whilst I exist; and when I cease 
to exist, I shall be destitute of all sensibility.” 1 It is true, that 
some imagine that we are to draw the opinions of Cicero solely 
from his philosophical works; and if we meet with any expres¬ 
sions in his private correspondence, as for instance, in his letters 
to Toranius, to Lucius Mescinius, and others, which cannot 
be harmonized with other passages that may be produced from 
his Tusculan Disputations &c., we are to suppose that, like the 
Cameleon, he took his colour from surrounding objects, and 
accommodated himself to the less sublime conceptions of his 
intimate friends. By this means we shall obtain consistency 
by the sacrifice of principle, and at the expense of common ho¬ 
nesty. 

But if adversity, as well as a “ death-bed,” be a detector of 
the heart”—if man be more prone to unbosom the secrets of his 
heart to his intimate friends, than the public gaze—if there be 
any truth in the observation that we are more disposed, in the 
vicissitudes of fortune, and the withering of our darling hopes, 
to draw our attention from the present transitory scene of exist¬ 
ence, and to fix it upon the glorious prospect of something that 
is durable and eternal—surely such a conjecture as that to 
which we have alluded, must have a greater degree of proba¬ 
bility upon the very face of it, before it can be palmed upon us 
as a satisfactory explanation. We would rather think that if 
Cicero had received the doctrine of the immortality of the soul 
with a decided conviction of its truth, he would have taken 
refuge in it in the day of affliction, and indulged himself in the 
enjoyment of those pleasing sensations, which might have been 
derived from the contemplation of a state in which the moral 
disorders of the present would be rectified —■" where the wicked 
cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.”—Yet Cicero 
was a man who had explored the very depths of science and 


i Lib. 6. Ep. 3. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


83 


philosophy one at whose feet were poured the treasures of 
past ages he had read the works of the immortal Plato, and 
had digested the arguments of “ him who drank the poison’d 
bowl” he, too, was prepossessed in favour of this doctrine, as 
being suitable to the dignity of our moral and intellectual na¬ 
ture, as opening to us an infinitely wider range for our contem¬ 
plations, and reflecting a degree of importance and splendour 
upon man’s present state of probation. But now, when he came 
to weigh the evidence which supported it, and to substitute rea¬ 
soning in the place of an heated imagination, his eloquence and 
his arguments vanished “like the baseless fabric of a vision;” 
and the man, who had endeavoured to convert others, as soon as 
he is “ divested of the philosopher and the politician,” discovers 
that the learning which he has “ whirled round his head in 
useless gyrations,” had neither warmed his heart, nor enlighten¬ 
ed his understanding. This makes it appear less wonderful 
why the orator should wish so earnestly to obtain “ an immor¬ 
tality of his own creation,”—why he should tell us that nature 
contains nothing more excellent quam laudem, quant dignitatem, 
quam decus, and why he should dwell with so much complacen¬ 
cy, or rather enthusiasm, upon the approbation of future ages, 
atid consider it as the very acme of happiness. So sung the 
bard of Mantua:— 

* * * “ Famam extendere factis. 

Hie labor, hoc opus est.” 1 * * * 

The same observations might be extended to every other phi¬ 
losopher, whose opinion is worth knowing. “Aristotle (says 
Stillingfleet) is upon a great reserve, as to a future state; 
and although he asserts the possibility of it sufficiently, from 
what he saith of the nature of the mind of man, as distinct from 
the principle of life; yet I am afraid Plato’s giving too much 
way to such poetical fictions as those of Herus Pamphilius, 
made Aristotle more cautious as to what he said concerning 
it, unless he could go upon surer grounds. He grants that the 


i Virg. /En. 



84 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


mind is of a nature distinct from the body, and separable from 
it; that it comes from without; that it is capable of pleasures 
more divine than the body can enjoy or apprehend; but when 
he had gone thus far, the mere light of reason would carry him 
no farther; and, therefore, he rather forbore to say any thing, 
than affirm what he could not prove. As Socrates said, in the 
case of prayer, in the second Alcibiades; ‘ they must stay till 
they were better informed 3 — which is a mighty advantage in 
behalf of divine Revelation. ” 1 

Yet Aristotle was the most profound philosopher of his 
age ,—“finis humani intellectus 33 (says St. Jerome); and such 
has been the admiration of his wonderful genius, that his very 
errors have been reverenced, and have laid the foundation of a 
mighty intellectual system, which, for centuries, has cramped 
the energies of the greatest scholars of Europe; and a single 
quotation from his writings has been looked upon as a sufficient 
proof of any proposition, however intricate or perplexing. 

4. A few words may be said with respect to the poetical 
fables, concerning Tartarus and Elysium, which, at first sight, 
might appear to be evident indications, that some vague and 
undefinable notions, concerning the immortality of the soul, 
were currently received amongst the great mass of the ancient 
Pagans. Some of these ideas of Pagan mythology, as Diodo¬ 
rus Siculus observes, seem to have been borrowed from tho¬ 
rites and ceremonies of interment, which were practised amongst 
the Eyptians, and to have been afterwards mixed up by the 
fertile and allegorizing fancy of the Greeks, with those national 
fables, characters, and events, which were continually floating 
upon the surface of society, and gathering about them an air of 
mystery, in an age of barbarism and ignorance. 

As we have mentioned the name of Diodorus Siculus, it 
perhaps may not be altogether out of place to introduce a pas¬ 
sage from a modern writer, where the observation of that his¬ 
torian is expanded into a paragraph, as interesting as it is 
instructive. 


1 Stillingfleet’s Origines Sacrae. Vol. 2. p. 259. 






LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


85 


1 lie common place of burial amongst the Egyptians, was 
beyond the lake Acherjisia or Acharejish, which meant the last 
state or the last condition, and from which the poets have ima¬ 
gined the fabulous lake of Acheron. On the borders of this lake, 
Acherusia, sat a tribunal, composed of forty-two judges, whose 
office, previous to the dead being permitted to be carried to the 
cemetery beyond the lake, was to inquire into the whole conduct 
of his life. If the deceased had led a wicked life, they ordered 
that he should be deprived of solemn burial, and he was conse¬ 
quently carried and thrown into a large ditch made for the pur¬ 
pose, to which they gave the appellation of Tartar, on account 
of the lamentations that this sentence produced among his sur¬ 
viving friends and relations. This is also the origin of the 
fabulous Tartarus, to which the poets have transferred the la¬ 
mentations made by the living to the dead themselves, who were 
thrown into it. 

“ To carry the corpse to the cemetery, it was necessary to 
cross the lake, and this was done by means of a boat; in which 
no one could be admitted without the express order of the 
judges, and without paying a small sum for the conveyance. 
This regulation was so strictly enforced, that the kings them¬ 
selves were not exempt from its severity. 

“ The cemetery was a large plain, surrounded by trees, and 
intersected by canals, to which they had given the appellation 
of Elisout or Eliseus, which means nothing else but rest. And 
such again is the origin of the poetical Charon and his boat, as 
well as of the fabulous description of the Elysian fields. 

“To express, therefore, the circumstance, that the deceased 
had been honoured with the rites of burial, and with the proper 
and legitimate lamentations of his friends, they exhibited on the 
legend imprinted on his mummy, or engraved round his tomb, 
the figure of a horse of the Nile, which the Greeks mistook for a 
dog; which, by his fidelity and attachment, has deserved to be¬ 
come the symbol of friendship and affection; and, as they at all 
times wished to add something of their own to the institutions 
of other nations, in order to express the three cries or farewells, 
they represented this same dog as having three different heads. 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


Stf 

To this emblem or hieroglyphic, the Egyptians gave the ap¬ 
pellation of Oms; and the Greeks, in consequence of their mis¬ 
taking it for a dog, that of Cerber, from the Egyptian Ceriber, a 
word which means the cry of the tomb, and from which origi¬ 
nates the Cerberus of the Grecian mythology.” 1 2 

But to return; we cannot say whether this machinery of the 
poet’s might have had some influence upon the popular creed— 
whether it might have impressed upon their minds the notion 
of some future scenes which would open upon their view, when 
they had arrived at the “ bourn from whence no traveller e’er re¬ 
turns.” But, however, be this as it may, we are certain that these 
impressions wore away, just in proportion as they ascended in 
the scale of civilization; a fact which irrefragably proves, if any 
proof were wanting, that the doctrine was not sufficiently sup¬ 
ported by evidence, and that it did not then exhibit itself in 
the attitude which it maintains at present, and throw down its 
gauntlet of defiance against the cavils of the sceptic, or the hos¬ 
tile conclusions of the more sober philosopher.—Nay, even the 
poets themselves, cast ridicule upon the subject. 

“ Esse aliquos manes et subterranea regna, 

Nec pueri credent, nisi qui nondum aere lavantur,” z 

“Tell me (says one of the disputants in Cicero), are you 
afraid of the three-headed Cerberus P the roaring of Cocytus ? 
and the passage of Acheron ? 

‘Mento summam aquam attingens, enectus siti, Tantalus? ’ 

And then 

* * * ‘Illud quod Sisyphus versat 

Saxum sudans nitendo, neque proficit hilum?’ 

J o which his respondent answers, ‘Adeone me delirare censes, ut 
ista esse credamP’” 3 “ No one (says Seneca) is so childish as to 
dread Cerberus, or the gloominess of Tartarus, and spectres ac¬ 
coutred with nothing but the semblance of bare bones. Death 


1 Lectures on the Elements of Hieroglyphics and Egyptian Antiquities, 
P* 147 —9. By the Marquis Spineto. —With some exclusions. 

2 Juvenal, Satir. 2. line, 149. 3 Tusc. Disput. p. 9—10. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


87 


either destroys us, or sets us free. If we be set free, happiness 
awaits us; if we be destroyed, the‘matter is ended’ ‘nihilrestate 
and neither good nor evil remains, since our sensibility perishes 
along with us.” 1 “Though they had the joys of Elysium, and 
the tortures of Tartarus, yet both philosophers and poets re¬ 
garded them as vulgar fables. Virgil does not hide this, and 
numerous quotations of the same import might be given both 
from him and others of the poets. 

‘ Felix qui rerum potuit cognoscere causas, 

Atque metus omnes et inexorabile fatum, 

Subjecit pedibus, strepitum-que Acherontis avari.’ 2, 

‘ Happy the man whose vigorous soul can pierce 
Through the formation of this universe, 

Who nobly dares despise, with soul sedate, 

The din of Acheron, and vulgar fears and fate.’ 3 

“ Nor was the scepticism and unbelief of the wise and great 
long kept from the vulgar, among whom they wished to main¬ 
tain the old superstitions, as instruments by which they might 
be controlled. Cicero complains that the common people in 
his days, mostly followed the doctrine of Epicurus.” 

The system of the Epicureans, whatever may have been the 
design of its founder, or the mistakes of his succeeding disciples, 
had become exceedingly corrupt in the times immediately pre¬ 
ceding the fall of the republic. By making happiness to centre 
in sensual enjoyment, and by generating a total indifference 
with respect to the welfare of others, it annihilated all those 
moral sensibilities which render society tender concerning their 
civil and political rights; and, by paralyzing every free-born 
energy, brought its disciples into such a state of imbecility, as to 
submit to the will of any tyrant, however arbitrary or despotic. 
“In the school of Epicurus (says Cicero) I never heard men¬ 
tion of the names of Lycurgus, Solon, Miltiades, Themisto- 
cles, and Epaminondas, —names which are in the mouths of 
all other philosophers.” 


1 Epist. 35. adMarciam,c. 19. 2 Georg. 2. line, 390—2. 3 Warton. 



88 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


DISSERTATION IV. 


ON NATURAL RELIGION. 

1. Strictures on the systems of natural religion. 2. The causes 
that have given rise to those systems. 3. Reasons demanded for 
the superiority of modern over ancient philosophers. 4. The 
dark condition of the Pagan philosophers rendered still darker 
by their fondness for speculation. 5. As far as the light o f 
nature is concerned, no superiority can be allowed to the mo ¬ 
derns. 

1. We cannot take leave of our last dissertation, without taking 
notice of that impression which is so irresistibly forced upon us 
by the survey which we have taken of this vast field of specula¬ 
tion and uncertainty, which has been opened to us by investi¬ 
gating the opinions of the different schools of philosophy on 
this subject. The impression to which we allude, is the sense 
which such a survey stamps upon us, of the weakness and falli¬ 
bility of our proud and aspiring powers; and the passages which 
we have cited from the Heathen philosophers, may serve very 
well to shew how little confidence is to be placed in what are 
generally called systems of natural religion. The advocates 
of these systems are never satisfied, till the great principles of 
revealed religion, as well as natural, “ are laid down like the 
elements of mathematics in the manner of Euclid :—definitions, 
axioms, postulates, primary propositions, subsequent proposi¬ 
tions, built upon and proved by the preceding, with corollaries 
and deductions/’ If they would plainly tell us that in the term 
natural religion, they included all those most prominent doc¬ 
trines of Revelation, which will ever be received by the uncor¬ 
rupted and unsophisticated understanding of man, not merely 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


89 


\ 


as being' conformable to the dignity of his nature, but capable 
of being supported by evidence drawn from the physical and 
moral world, as soon as Revelation shall have poured a flood of 
light over their varied and perplexing phenomena. If they 
would make such an acknowledgment as this, we might then 
persuade ourselves that they were no longer comparing the 
water which they draw from their “broken cisterns,” to that 
which flows from the “ well of the sanctuary.” 

But when they shew by their method of treating the subject, 
that their intention is merely to prove how well the world could 
do without a Revelation—how easily the reader might have 
rendered himself perfect by the vigour of his natural abilities 
and “collectedness of effort,” we would enter a caveat against 
such an ungenerous and ungrateful method of proceeding—we 
would tell them, what they might have known long before, had 
they not been blinded by their own prejudices, that religion has 
no need of such slender “undergirding,”—that the weightiest 
doctrines are not to be shamed or banished out of the world, 
because reason is not adequate to their discovery. 

“ To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, 

To throw a perfume on the violet, 

To smooth the ice, or add another hue 
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light 
To seek the beauteous lamp of heaven to garnish, 

Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.” i 

And yet will it be believed, though it is no less true than 
strange, that those, who advocate so strenuously the claims of 
natural religion, have nevertheless been conversant with the 
labours of Pagan genius and philosophy—that they have held 
“ high communion ” with the mighty masters of antiquity:— 

“ The Stagirite, and Plato, him who drank 
The poisoned bowl, and him of Tusculum 
With him of Corduba, immortal names! ” 2 

And notwithstanding the tribute of admiration which they 
have paid to those superior talents which at once make us sensible 


1 Shakespeare. 


2 Young's Night Thoughts. 
M 



90 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


of our inferiority, and at the same time “ proud of our com¬ 
mon nature;” yet they have forgot the practical conclusion 
which they ought to have drawn from investigations of this 
character—they have forgot the lesson which such a survey 
should have taught them, that Revelation had done something 
more than give its sanction to the truths of what they term 
natural religion—that there needs no great deal of acuteness to 
discover how “great a gulph is fixed,” betwixt human reason 
and the awful realities of another world—how great a difference 
there is betwixt being tossed in an “uncompassed, unpiloted 
and uncharted bark,” upon the vast ocean of the speculations 
and hypotheses of a bewildering philosophy, and reposing upon 
the “rock of ages,” which, as it has been beautifully expressed, 
like the towering pyramid, amidst all the whirlwinds and sands 
of the desert, still presents its base to the storm, and points its 
summit to the skies, whilst an halo of splendour and glory 
encircles it from the throne of the Eternal. 

2. However, to examine the question a little more closely, we 
think that those systems of natural religion, which have made 
such bold encroachments upon the territories of Revelation, 
have emanated from partial and defective views of the subject, 
rather than from any unworthy motive, or desire of lessening 
the quantum of gratitude which is due to Revelation. And yet, 
on the one hand, we think that many of these speculations have 
arisen from those perversities of our intellectual nature,—those 
“strong holds” of imagination, and that pride of reason, 
which disdain to acknowledge that any truth is placed beyond 
its grasp. We want nothing here but an equitable appropria¬ 
tion—an equitable division betwixt the “things that belong 
unto Caesai and the things that belong unto God.” Let those, 
therefore, who are so devoted to the idolatry of reason, consider 
the extent of her powers, and the foundation of their gratitude. 

Foi I thought (says Mr. Locke), that the first step towards 
satisfying several inquiries, the mind of man was apt to run into, 
was to take a survey of our understandings, examine our own 
powers, and see to what things they were adapted. Till that 
was done, I suspected we began at the wrong end, and in vain 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


91 


sought for satisfaction in a quiet and sure possession of truths 
that most concerned us, whilst we let loose our thoughts into the 
vast ocean of being, as if all that boundless region were the na¬ 
tural and undoubted possession of our understandings, wherein 
there was nothing exempt from its decisions, or that escaped its 
comprehension. Thus men extending their inquiries beyond 
their capacities, and letting their thoughts wander into those 
depths, where they can find no sure footing; it is no wonder 
that they raise questions, and multiply disputes, which, never 
coming to any clear resolution, are proper only to increase their 
doubts, and confirm them at last in perfect scepticism. Where¬ 
as, were the capacities of our understandings well considered, 
the extent of our knowledge once discovered, and the horizon 
found, which sets the bounds between the enlightened and dark 
parts of things, between what is, and what is not, comprehensible 
by us, men would, perhaps, with less scruple, acquiesce in the 
avowed ignorance of the one, and employ their thoughts and 
discourse with more advantage and satisfaction in the other.*** 
It is of great use to the sailor, to know the length of his line, 
though he cannot with it fathom all the depths of the ocean. It 
is well enough he knows, that it is long enough to reach the 
bottom, at such places as are necessary to direct his voyage, 
and caution him against running upon shoals that may ruin 
him.” 1 

Many of these systems, on the other hand, have originated from 
a desire of recommending religion to the infidel, by shewing that 
its basis is as broad as that of nature, and that we cannot reject 
its doctrines, without, at the same time, rejecting the doctrines 
of reason. But it may be doubted whether works of this nature 
have been of any real service to Christianity. By ringing such 
a variety of metaphysical changes upon right reason, the grounds 
and nature of moral obligation, and the eternal fitness of things— 
by breathing a spirit of noble, though artificial, benevolence, 
and embodying, without acknowledgment, much of what is pe¬ 
culiar to the Bible,—they have perhaps had a tendency upon 


x Locke’s Essay on the Human Understanding - , p. 5—G. 







92 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


the whole, to foster a spirit of scepticism, by leading many 
readers to imagine, that the light of nature which had conduct¬ 
ed them so far, had conducted them far enough; and that the 
rejection of Revelation was of very little consequence, since it 
merely deprived them of a few mysterious facts and doctrines, 
which transcended all human comprehension, and in their view 
of the subject, brought along with them no rationale that was 
either intelligible or convincing. 

3. But, however, not to dwell too long on any abstract discus¬ 
sion, which may, nevertheless, serve well enough to put us upon 
our guard, there is another and a easier way of bringing the 
question to a resolution—by an appeal to those theories and 
hypotheses which issued forth during the undisturbed reign of 
reason over the schools of Pagan philosophy. We have as 
yet only brought one doctrine to the test, but we must recollect, 
that it is the most important one that could have been selected, 
and in the prosecution of this work, we shall probably have an 
opportunity of making additions to the catalogue. And, we 
would ask, what is the reason why we never see the Pagan phi¬ 
losopher marshalling his arguments with the same vigour and 
certainty of success, as the modern theist, or the zealous 
advocate of natural religion ? What is the reason why the one 
argues with so mtich strength and evidence of conviction, 
whilst the other never ventures beyond a doubt, or a probable 
conjecture? What is the reason why the one lays down the 
elements of his system with so much precision, dignifies them 
with the name of principles, the basis of truth, and the very 
frame-work of common sense, whilst the other, who possesses fa¬ 
culties full as vigorous and as well cultivated, “ tells us that we 
must wait till further light be thrown upon the subject, and that 
we must accuse nature which has hidden the truth in the deep ?” 1 
What is the reason, to draw an instance from the subjects al¬ 
ready treated, why the one should tell us that the indivisibility 
and the sublime faculties of the soul, irrefragably prove its im¬ 
materiality, whilst the other, who is equally convinced that it 


1 Cicero. 






LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


93 


has no parts, and that its nature is divine, never grasps such an 
idea even in the random of his conjectures, hut plainly tells us 
that he does not know what may be its intimate nature and 
essence ? “ Anima sit animus, ignisve, nescio See.” “ Whether 

the soul be breath or fire, I cannot say; nor am I ashamed, 
as some philosophers are, of confessing my ignorance.” 1 2 
What is the reason why the one, deeply skilled in the science 
of metaphysics, will give us the doctrine of the immortality of 
the soul with all the parade of demonstration, whilst the other 
tells us that the “ eye of the mind loses its quickness of percep¬ 
tion, by the intense contemplation of its own features; and, on 
that account, his discourse, like a vessel in the immense ocean, 
is carried to and fro by every gale, by every hypothesis and the¬ 
ory?” (( Itaq uc dubitans, circumspectans, hcesitans, multa ad versa 
revertens, tanquam in rate in mari immenso , nostra vehitur ora- 
tio .” 2 In fine, we could wish to know, what is the reason why 
the one puts so much confidence in reason, and linking himself 
along with the theist, imagines that if not all, yet at least many 
of the most important doctrines of revealed religion, may be 
derived from “the fund of our nature physical and moral;” 3 
whilst at the same time the other, who had also the same pole- 
star to guide him, but no other, confesses that the “various ap¬ 
prehensions of wise men, will justify the doubtings and demurs 
of sceptics, and it will then be sufficient to blame them, when 
others agree or any one has found out the truth? We say not 
that nothing is true, but that some false things are annexed to 
all that is true, ‘ tanta similitudine, ut Us nulla sit certa judi- 
candi et assentiendi nota / and that ‘with so much likeness, that 
there is no certain note of judging what is true, or assenting to 


Cicero’s Tusc. Disp. c. 25. “Si cor aut sanguis, aut cerebrum est 
animus; certe, quoniam est corpus, interibit cum reliquo corpore; si anima 
est, forte dissipabitur, si ignis, extinguetur” Id. Lib. 1. c. 11. 

2 . Tusc. Disp. c. 30. He thus answers his friend who tells him that he 
is firmly resolved to believe in the immortality of the soul.—“Laudo id equi- 
dem, etsi nihil animis oportet considere; movemur saepe aliquo acute conclu- 
so; labamus, mutamusq: sententiam clarioribus etiam in rebus ; in hoc est 
enim aliqua obscuritas.” Id. 

3 Bolingbroke’s Works, Vol. 5. p. 100. 




1)4 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


it/ We deny not that something may be true, but we deny 
that it can be perceived so to be, for what have we certain con¬ 
cerning good and evil?—Nor for this are we to be blamed, but 
"nature, which has hidden truth in the deep/ ‘naturam accusa, 
quce in prof undo veritatem penitus abstruserit.’ ” 1 

4. There is, however, no doubt, but, that in many cases, the 
variety of theories and hypotheses was more owing to philoso¬ 
phic pride, a fondness for the paradoxical, and a rage for inno¬ 
vation, rather than to that dark condition in which providence 
had placed them. But when we say this, we could wish to be 
understood. Nature has as much an abhorrence to a state of 
ignorance, or rather indecision, as the ancients imagined she 
had to a vacuum. Whatever may be the circumstances in which 
she has placed her children, provided they be once roused from 
their natural lethargy, the spirit of inquiry will never rest, till 
it has produced a something, which, however rude and distorted, 
will prevent the imagination from losing its elasticity in the 
regions of emptiness. It will build systems and hypotheses 
upon the slightest analogies and the most flimsy plausibilities, 
rather than be without them, or something equivalent. It is 
not to be expected, that man with all the divinity and restless¬ 
ness of his faculties, would remain in a state of quiescence. 
Endowed as he is with the high powers of reason, we cannot 
but expect that he will exert them, though as the poet expresses 
it, he may "" reason only to err;” and before he will either confess 
his ignorance, or the weakness of his faculties, and consequently 
rest contented with his fate, experience will convince us, that by 
his ardour of enterprise and ""nobleness of daring,” he still labours 
to be ‘"darkly wise” and “rudely great.” — Considering the 
condition in which the ancient philosophers were placed, it 
may easily be conceived how this principle of our common na¬ 
ture, combined with the obscurity which to their eyes veiled 
every moral and theological inquiry—we say, it may easily be 
conceived how these two circumstances might give rise to vain 
speculation and a chaos of hypotheses. 

i See Cicero, de nat. Deor. Lib. 1. p. 10—11. — Acad. Qusest. Lib. 2. 

p. 66—120. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


95 


r< ^ ou m ^y see (says Ludovicus Vives) that the philosophers 
were influenced by two diflerent causes, ignorance and pride, 
which is the inevitable result of the former. Under their direc¬ 
tion, it is no wonder that they introduced such opinions into 
philosophy, f as could scarcely provoke a smile but for their 
absurdity/ ‘ad qua nec pueri nec vetulce risum teneant;’ and so 
prolific have they been, that Plutarch has written four volumes 
expressly on the subject. So great was their inconsistency and 
diversity of opinion, that Xenophon tells us in his Commenta¬ 
ries, it was upon that account Socrates abstained from any 
‘inquiries into nature' —‘ab inquisitione natures.’ ” *“As soon as 
the humour of innovating got amongst the philosophers, (says 
Stillingfleet, when speaking on the origin of the universe), 
they thought they did nothing unless they contradicted their 
masters; thence came that multiplicity of sects presently among 
them, and that philosophy which at first went much upon the 
original tradition of the world, was turned into disputes and 
altercations; * * * so that by means of this litigious humour, 
philosophy, from being a design, grew to be a mere art; and he 
was accounted the best philosopher, not that searched furthest 
into the bowels of nature, but that dressed and tricked up the 
notions he had in the best posture of defence against all who 
came to oppose him. From hence those opinions were most 
plausible, not which were most true, but which were most 
defensible, and which, like Des Cartes’ second element, had 
all the angles cut off, on which their adversaries might have an 
advantage of justling upon them; and their opinions were ac¬ 
counted most pure, when they were so spherical as to pass up 
and down without interruption.” * 2 This however, has been 
more or less the spirit of philosophy in all ages, and we need 
not go so far back as the time of Aristotle and Epicurus, to 


i Ludovicus Vives de corrupt, art. Lib. 5. 

2 . Stillingfleet’s Origines Sacrse. Vol. 2. p. 9. “The philosophy of the 
Greeks led its votaries to infidelity, because it was above measure refined 
and speculative, and used to be determined by metaphysical rather than by 
moral principles, and to stick to all consequences, howsoever absurd, that 
were seen to arise from such principles.”— Warburton. 





96 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


collect examples of its baneful influence. There is no percep¬ 
tible difference betwixt being- without a guide, and rejecting bis 
directions; only the latter gathers round him a deeper shade of 
responsibility, in proportion to the authority of' that system 
which he despises, and which ought to be the beacon by which 
he should direct his course. The modern philosophic romances 
of a Des Cartes or a Buffon, or the still more recent ones of 
the Neptunian and Plutonian schools of Geology, serve well 
enough to shew what an extensive field is opened to an heated 
imagination and speculative enterprise, as soon as the sons of 
science have taken the "world and all that it inherits” into 
their own hands, and substituted what they unmeaningly term 
the "laws of nature” in the place of the simple and majestic 
fiat of the omnipotent Creator. 

Much, however, as this inconsistency and variety of opinions 
may be attributed to the spirit of a vain and bewildering philo¬ 
sophy, and of "science falsely so called;” yet, it still remains to 
be accounted for, why those philosophers who sought after truth 
with as much penetration as modesty, never brought it fairly 
within their grasp. The disciples of this school, however rare, 
still present a relief in the picture, and the light which encircles 
them, shews still more plainly the darkness of the ground upon 
which they are painted. These form a splendid exception. 
Scanty as sound information was amongst the generality of 
Pagans upon the most important subjects; yet, there sprang up 
"ever and anon,” philosophers who washed to contribute to the 
general confusion, either by perplexing the plainest of truths, 
or plunging into those forbidden regions, where it is impossible 
to gain any sure footing. These were the men who would dis¬ 
pute whether "snow was white;” and concerning whom Cicero 
has said, that there was no absurdity, however revolting, which 
some of them had not sanctioned by their approbation. It was 
thus that one abortive theory succeeded another. There was no 
common arbiter to whom they might appeal,—no boundary-line 
was fixed, which might separate rash and unfounded speculation 
from an accurate process of inductive reasoning. The objects 
which they endeavoured to grasp were generally of an important 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


07 


or at least a curious character; but they never reflected upon their 
distance, nor the shortness of their “ intellectual arm.” Consi¬ 
dering the general confusion and uncertainty, it was no wonder 
that many of them, instead of revolving round a common centre, 
darted off, like the comet, into the infinity of space, and, instead 
of ruminating upon the weakness of those pinions which had 
borne them into the fields of light, wished, like “ the illustrious 
stranger,” to “double wide heaven’s mighty cape.” It was no 
wonder that many of them, like the democratic atoms of Epicu¬ 
rus, imagined that they could perform their operations to the 
greatest satisfaction in vacuo, without regard either to system or 
rule. The turbulence of the philosophic arena seemed to resem¬ 
ble the ocean during a storm, as the tumult called into action 
the most formidable and unwieldy of her offspring. 

“ Sometimes it comes in the wintry-night. 

And I hear the flap of its pinions of might. 

And I see the flash of its withering eye, 

As it looks from the thunder-cloud rolling on high: 

And it pauses to gather its fearful breath, 

And lifts up its eye like the ‘angel of death ; 7 

And the billows mount up when the summons they hear, 

And the ship flies away, as if winged with fear. 

“And the uncouth monsters that roam through the deep, 

Start up at the sound from their floating sleep; 

And career through the waves, like clouds through the night, 

To share in the tumult their joy and delight: 

And when the moon rises, the ship is no more, 

Its joys and its sorrows are vanish’d and o’er; 

And the fierce storm that slew it has faded away, 

Like the dark dream that flies at the light of the day.” i 

6. From writers of this description, the mind willingly turns 
itself to those who, like Socrates, brought down philosophy 
from the skies, to the study of their own nature, and the pro¬ 
motion of domestic and social happiness. 2 “The lovers of 
wisdom,” says a writer, whose warmth may be excused, when 
we consider that he is comparing them with the spawn of the 
first French revolution, “The lovers of wisdom, in the best ages 


i Anonymous. z Cic. Acad. Qusest. Lib. 1. 

L 







98 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


of Athens and Rome, always discoursed with reverence and 
submission concerning the Author and Governor of the world. 
They considered of whom they spoke. If they turned to the 
origin of evil, or to any dark and unfathomable question, they 
first called upon man to consider the limits of his understanding. 
They warned him with most peculiar emphasis, to beware of 
those aAt noi ocvopicu, those ‘difficulties of hard solution/ which are 
but increased by defences or arguments ill constructed. They 
implored him affectionately to avoid all that tends to overthrow, 
to trouble or disturb those principles which conduct to peace 
and to right action. Their advice was to strengthen the intel¬ 
lect and to compose the passions, not by braving and insulting 
the All-powerful, All-wise, and All-merciful Creator, but by an 
humble, patient inquiry into his works, and submission to his 
dispensations. They seemed to be well aware that, to him who 
understood all the bearings and relations of the word, resignation 
to the will of God, was the whole of piety. If, upon sages like 
these, the light of Revelation should appear as the regent of 
their philosophical day, nothing can be conceived more august, 
nothing more ennobling, nothing more dignified. Poetry and 
philosophy may then speak a language worthy of themselves:— 

‘ Altius his nihil est; lisec sunt fastigia mundi! 

Publica naturse domus his contenta tenetur 

Finibus.’ ” * * * * * * 

At whatever conclusion we may therefore arrive, we can 
never say that the philosophers to whom we allude were unlike¬ 
ly to be enlisted in the service of human reason, and to have the 
honour of achieving those triumphs, which her votaries of mo¬ 
dern times so proudly ascribe to her. We are not at present going 
to give a string of common-place expressions about the “ giants 
of old,” &c. There needs but very little acuteness to discover 
that the intellectual faculties of men in all ages and climes have 
been much the same, with respect to their natural vigour; and 
that the most important differences in the genius of any nation, 
and those which discriminate it the most strongly from any 


iManil, Astronom. Lib. 1.—Pursuits of Literature, p. 15—6. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


99 


other, are to be attributed chiefly to accident, habit, and educa¬ 
tion. How then will the advocate of natural religion bring in 
his plea about the improved understanding of man, as if God 
had not made of “one blood all the nations of the earth ? ” 

W hen we recall to mind these philosophers of “ olden times,” 
we recall every varied excellence of our intellectual nature. 
Can we for a moment reflect upon the sublime genius of a Pla¬ 
to, the acuteness of an Aristotle, the eloquent philosophy 
of a Cicero, or the deep moral reasoning of a Seneca, without 
passing over such an imputation, as too pitiful to be taken no¬ 
tice of? Their works still exist in all the freshness and “bloom 
of immortality,” and whatever errors we may find mixed up 
with them, we may easily discern that they were owing to some¬ 
thing more than to a deficiency of intellect, or a neglect of pati¬ 
ent inquiry. Yet they had every thing that we have—they were 
surrounded by the same works of nature—they were invigorated 
by the same sun—they breathed the same atmosphere, and they 
were sheltered by the same canopy. They knew, 

“ That nature is the glass reflecting God, 

As by the sea reflected is the sun. 

Too glorious to be gazed on in his sphere.” i 

In this respect the modern philosopher can have no advantage 
over the ancient. All the variety of nature’s scenery was as 
accessible to Socrates and Seneca as to the Newtons and the 
Boyles of modern days. These may have extended the field 
and widened the horizon of science, but from such speculations 
they can have derived no other arguments but what were wield¬ 
ed by their less favoured predecessors, in support of any moral 
or theological doctrine. It is true that many of those subjects, 
upon which Revelation has cast so much light, may derive 
weighty and additional confirmation from our present physical 
system, but that is not the question; it is merely whether these 
doctrines are capable of being indicated, or demonstrated solely 
by that system. To this our opponent must confine himself. 
He will still have to give a reason why the ancient philosopher, 


i Young’s Night Thoughts. 





100 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


who had the same means of information, did not arrive at the 
same conclusions. He had the same alternations of day and 
night, and, like Socrates, could from thence argue to the be¬ 
nevolence and wisdom of the Deity; 1 and yet he could not form 
any, we will not say adequate, but proper, notion of either:—we 
mean such a notion as is warranted by the scriptural standard. 
He had the same vicissitude of seasons. For him, as well as for 
us, the “moon walked in brightness,” and “day unto day utter¬ 
ed knowledge,” for their “sound was gone out into all lands.” 
The poet, as well as the philosopher, could then light his torch 
at the fount of heaven—he could then 

“Kindle at the stars the lamp of wisdom— 

He could then watch with as much ecstacy the purple dawning 
of the “young light,” and revel in the roseate blush of the 
“rosy-fingered morning,” and he could then gaze with as much 
sublimity of feeling upon the midnight glories of the “starry 
heavens.” From such contemplations as these he could receive 
equal benefit—he could perceive himself to be in the midst of 
an universe whose almost every feature is lovely and instructive. 

“ There is music in the breeze 
That upon the soul doth seize; 

There is in the surge’s tone 
Music, magic of its own ; 

Stoopeth not a rosy cloud 
O’er the waste of waters bowed, 

But before the gifted eye 
Shews some lovely mystery! 

Now in scattered streamers riven, 

Seeming like the steeds of heaven, 

Gathering now its solemn zone, 

Stands the thunder’s burning throne!” 2 

If no alteration has taken place in the physical world, it is 
evident that both modern and ancient philosophers stand upon 
a par in this respect, and the phenomenon still wants an expla¬ 
nation. And if we direct our eyes to the moral world, we still 
see that man is invested with the same nature, and that the 


1 See the Memorabilia of Xenophon. Lib. 4. c. 3. 


2 POLLIO. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


101 


moral administration is carried on in the same manner as it was 
when Socrates and Seneca were discussing' these questions. 
Man is still a compound of vice and virtue, of weakness and 
dignity. He still feels that his affections are rebelling against 
his judgment, and that his judgment is capable of perversion. 
He knows that reason should be the sole monarch and director 
of his movements, and yet he becomes a slave to the tyranny of 
his appetites. 

Though vice may ultimately bring misery upon its victim, 
and on the contrary, virtue may crown its votary with happiness, 
yet as far as human observation can reach, and that is in fact all 
which we have to do with in the jjresent case, we have still the 
same perplexities in the moral administration which puzzled 
both the Oriental and the Greek schools. If Revelation had 
thrown no light upon such difficulties, we might still have been 
asking questions similar to those which Cotta proposes in 
Tally. “If there be a Providence, why were the two Scipios 
destroyed in Spain by the Carthaginians?—Why was Maximus 
killed by Hannibal? —Why were the Romans with Paulus 
ruined at Cannae?—Why did Regulus undergo so much cru¬ 
elty by the Carthaginians ?—Why did Africanus die in his 
own bed? Nay, said he, to come nearer home, why is my uncle 
Rutilus in banishment?—Why was my friend Drusus killed 
in his own house? On the other side, why did Marius die in 
peace, and the cruel Cinna enjoy so long tranquillity ?” 1 And 
though Plutarch and some others 2 have explained these mat¬ 
ters, as well as human reason, unassisted, could explain them, 
and though after every solution which they could offer, they 
still thought that there might be a future state of retribution; 
yet we know from what we have brought forward in the preced¬ 
ing pages, concerning the immortality of the soul, and the 
theories by which it was encumbered, or rather, neutralized—we 
know that their opinions were far from being either correct or 
influential. 

We shall conclude the present dissertation with the remarks 


iStillingfleet’s Orig. Sac. Vol. 2. c. 3. 2 See Seneca de Prov. — de Ben. 




102 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


of a writer, whose penetration was equal to his learning. “It 
appears then that the only state of antiquity, whose view gives 
solid advantage to the Christian cause, is such a one as shews na¬ 
tural reason to be clear enough to perceive truth, and the neces¬ 
sity of its deductions, when proposed and shewn; but not gene¬ 
rally strong enough to discover it. * * '* We find that human 
reason could penetrate very far into the essential difference of 
things; but wanting the true principles of religion, the an¬ 
cients neither knew the origin of obligation nor the consequences 
of obedience. Revelation has discovered those principles, and 
we now wonder that such prodigies of parts and knowledge 
could commit the gross absurdities that are to be found in their 
best treatises on morality, which yet does not hinder us from 
falling into a greater or worse delusion. For seeing, of late, 
several excellent systems of morals, under the title of the ‘Prin¬ 
ciples of Natural Religion,’ that disclaim the aid of Revelation, 
we are apt to think them indeed the discoveries of natural rea¬ 
son, and so regard their excellencies as an objection to the neces¬ 
sity of any farther light. The pretence is plausible; but surely 
there must be some mistake at the bottom; and the immense 
difference in point of perfection, between these imaginary pro¬ 
ductions of reason, and those real ones of the most learned anci¬ 
ents, will increase our suspicion. The truth is:—these modem 
system-writers had an aid, which as they do not acknowledge, 
so I persuade myself they did not perceive. This aid were the 
true principles of religion delivered by Revelation:—principles 
so clear and evident, that they are now mistaken to be amongst 
our first and simplest ideas; but those who understand antiqui¬ 
ty know the matter to be far otherwise.” 1 


i Warburton’s Divine Legation of Moses. Book 3. Sect. 5. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


103 


DISSERTATION V. 

ON THE ORIGIN OF NATURAL RELIGION. 

SECT. I. 

1. With respect to natural religion , the ancient philosophers en¬ 
joyed those benefits which might be derived from tradition. 
2. From an acquaintance with the Jews. 3. From travelling 
in the East. 4. From the Greek translation of the Old 
Testament. 

1. When we are speaking concerning the ancient philosophers, 
we must not imagine that we are bringing forward instances, in 
which human reason was surrounded by circumstances the most 
unfavourable that can possibly be conceived, for speculations of 
this character. We will not dwell upon the high state of per¬ 
fection to which their faculties were brought by the “discipline 
of mathematical and dialectic science;”—but there are other 
considerations which ought to enter into our estimate, and which 
cannot in fairness be omitted. They were far from being in 
such a state, as to give the world a specimen to what extent rea¬ 
son could pursue her investigations unaided, and independent 
of those external relations, whose influence though we may not 
be able to ascertain, yet it would be mere folly altogether to 
deny. As our argument lies more with the believers in 
the Divine authority of the Scriptures than the Deist, we may 
take advantage of certain principles which such a belief con¬ 
cedes. We know that all mankind are descended from one 
common stock, for God “ hath made of one blood all nations* to 
dwell upon the face of the earth.” Whatever might be the 
quantum of moral and theological knowledge, which was pos¬ 
sessed by our first parents, we may conclude that it would be 


104 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


amply sufficient to direct their conduct, as responsible agents. 1 
We are moreover certain that their immediate descendants would 
be instructed in those great principles of religious truth; and it 
is very easy to be conceived how they might be conveyed down 
through the short series of our antediluvian ancestors, to Noah, 
who was himself “a preacher of righteousness/’ 2 

“The existence of God; his providence; his favour to the 
good; his anger against evil doers; the great rules of justice 
and mercy; the practice of a sacrificial worship; the observance 
of the sabbath; the promise of a deliverer, and other similar 
tenets, were among the articles and religious rites of this primi¬ 
tive system, nor can any satisfactory account be given why they 
were transmitted to so many people in different parts of the 
world—why they have continued to glimmer through the dark¬ 
ness of paganism to this day—why we find them more or less 
recognized in the mythology, traditions, and practices of almost 
all ages, ancient and modern, except that they received some 
original sanction of great efficacy, deeply fixing them in the 
hearts of the patriarchs of all the families of men. Those who 
deny the Revelations contained in the Scriptures, have no means 
of accounting for these facts, which in themselves are indisput¬ 
able. They have no theory respecting them which is not too 
childish to deserve serious refutation, and they usually prefer 
to pass them over in silence. But the believer in the Scriptures 
can account for them, and he alone. The destruction of wicked 


1 “But this I am fully persuaded of, that God revealed some things to 
man, not dictated by nature. For whence did he know the command about 
the tree of knowledge, and whence the meaning of the tree of life, 
but by God’s declaring it to him? Whence such a knowledge of his wife’s 
creation, as to pronounce her ‘ flesh of his flesh, and bone of his bone,’ 
but from Divine Revelation? That learned man, therefore, was mistaken, 
who insisted, that the state of man was merely natural. For it was not so 
merely natural, that Adam only knew what the mere consideration of nature 
could suggest. The contrary we have just shewn, and it must be deemed 
natural to that state, that innocent man, who had familiar intercourse with 
his God, should learn from his own mouth what might render him fitter to 

celebrate his praises.”- Witsius de (Economia fsederum Dei cum homine. 

Lib. 1. c. 2. s. 7. 

2 Noah’s father was contemporary with Adam. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


105 


men by the flood, put the seal of Heaven upon the religious 
system transmitted from Adam; and under the force of this di¬ 
vine and unequivocal attestation of its truth, the sons and de¬ 
scendants of Noah went forth into their different settlements, 
hearing for ages the deep impression of its sanctity and autho¬ 
rity—an impression which at length gave way to vice, supersti¬ 
tion, and false philosophy. But superstition perverted truth 
rather than displaced it; and the doctrines, the history, and 
even the hopes of the first ages, were never entirely banished 
from even those fables which became baneful substitutes for 
their simplicity 1 

“Suppose a person (says Bishop Butler) to be convinced 
of the truth of religion, that there is a God who made the world, 
who is the moral governor and judge of mankind, and will, upon 
the whole, deal with every one according to his works: I say, 
suppose a person convinced of this by reason, but to know no¬ 
thing at all of antiquity, or the present state of mankind, it 
would be natural for such a one to be inquisitive, what was the 
history of this system of doctrine—at what time, and in what 
manner it came first into the world, and whether it were believ¬ 
ed by any considerable part of it. And were he, upon inquiry, 
to find that a particular person, in a late age, first of all propos¬ 
ed it as a deduction of reason, and that mankind were before 
wholly ignorant of it; then, though its evidence from reason 
would remain, there would be no additional probability of its 
truth from the account of its discovery. But instead of this being 
the fact of the case, on the contrary, he would find what could 
not but afford him a very strong confirmation of its truth:— First, 
that somewhat of this system with more or fewer additions and 
alterations hath been professed in all ages and countries of which 
we have any certain information relating to this matter:— Second¬ 
ly, that it is a certain historical fact, so far as we can trace things 
up, that this whole system of belief, that there is one God, the 
Creator and moral governor of the world, and that mankind is 
in a state of religion, was received in the first ages:—and Thirdly, 


i Watson’s Divine Authority of the Holy Scriptures, p. 28. 

M 




106 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


that as there is no liint or intimation in history, that this system 
was first reasoned out; so there is express historical or traditi¬ 
onal evidence as ancient as history, that it was taught first by 
Revelation. Now these things must be allowed to be of great 
weight. The first of them, general consent, shews this system 
to be conformable to the common sense of mankind. The se¬ 
cond, namely, that religion was believed in the first ages of the 
world, especially as it does not appear that there were then any 
superstitions or false additions to it, cannot but be a farther 
confirmation of its truth. For it is a proof of this alternative; 
either that it came into the world by Revelation, or that it is na¬ 
tural, obvious, and forces itself upon the mind. The former of 
these is the conclusion of learned men. And whoever will con¬ 
ceive how unapt for speculation rude and uncultivated minds 
are, will perhaps from hence alone, be strongly inclined to be¬ 
lieve it the truth. * * * And the third thing above men¬ 

tioned, that there is express historical or traditional evidence, as 
ancient as history, of the system of religion being taught man¬ 
kind by Revelation: this must be admitted as some degree of 
real proof that it was so taught. For why should not the most 
ancient tradition be admitted as some additional proof of a fact, 
against which there is no presumption ?” 1 

How long the principles of revealed religion might be retain¬ 
ed in all their purity, amongst the great mass of ancient Pagans 
immediately after the flood, at this distance of time, it is impos¬ 
sible for us to discover. We have no histories of any credit 
that embody the opinions and practices of those ages, except 
the Pentateuch, which is a very rapid sketch, and does not enter 
into minutice of this character. The light, however, which may 
be drawn from various passages of Holy Writ, and the glimmer¬ 
ings of heathen history, warrant us in drawing the conclusion, 
that no great length of time intervened before their opinions 
were adulterated, and their practices corrupt. The building of 
the tower of Babel, shews that their hearts were alienated from 
the living God, and whatever might be the peculiar nature of 


1 Butler’s Analogy, &c. Part 2. p. 87—9. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


107 


the crime involved in that transaction, we know that it was of 
sufficient heinousness to call down the vengeance of the Almigh- 
ty. The confusion of languages gave rise to their dispersion, 
and from this primitive seat of their ancestors, they wandered 
forth into their different settlements, bearing along with them, 
to say the least, some faint ideas of a system which had been so 
awfully sanctioned, and the violation of which, had been so sig¬ 
nally punished. These general traditions, howeVer, were not 
long preserved in a pure and uncorrupted state. War, plunder, 
rapine, the dispossessing the more ancient, yet less powerful, oc¬ 
cupiers of the soil, their division into numerous clans under the 
government of various chiefs—a system which tends to lengthen 
the protracted series of warfare and ambition; these, coupled 
along with their ignorance of writing, their want of historical 
records, and a consequent disregard for studies of this character, 
would all conspire to carry on the work of desolation, and throw 
a shade over the transactions of former ages.—It is no wonder 
then, as soon as they began to emerge out of a state of absolute 
barbarism, that the Bap^o* or the poets, who appear to have been 
the most prominent literary characters, and the greatest favour¬ 
ites amongst a rude and uncivilized people, should seize upon 
these general traditions which were floating around, and give 
them to the world, invested with all the variegated drapery of 
fable and mythology. In the same manner as these pleasing 
legends or fabulous corruptions were embodied in the popular 
creed, analogy leads us to draw the conclusion, that those gene¬ 
ral, though obscure, notions concerning the existence of a Deity, 
his attributes, the nature and duties of man, were derived from 
that original Revelation, which once existed in all its purity 
amongst the patriarchs of our race; and which afterwards was 
darkened and corrupted by the vicious passions of succeeding 
o-enerations, as the stream becomes more turbid the farther it is 
removed from its source. This is the only rational conclusion 
at which we can arrive. We can fix upon no era —no point in 
the ascending scale of chronology, where those general notions 
are not to be found. There is no evidence which can be brought 
forward to prove, that they were ever reasoned out, or elicited 


108 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


from the "fund of our nature physical and moral/’ They may 
have been confirmed, and they are capable of confirmation from 
arguments derived from this source; but when we have granted 
this, we are far from proving that they were owing, in the first 
instance, to the deductions of reason, or the generalizing spirit 
of philosophy. We have no mention either in history, sacred 
or profane, of any single philosopher, or any sect of philosophers, 
who have laid succeeding ages under such weighty obligations, 
for discoveries so important. All evidence goes to the con¬ 
trary. They existed long before philosophy shone forth like an 
ignis fatuus to darken and bewilder, or the world began to 
awake from its slumber of ignorance.—They were embodied in 
“ great general maxims,” without any “ deep affectation of cause 
and effect ,” 1 of systems and corollaries; and they were the 
birthright of the child of nature, as well as the son of wisdom. 
No age ever claimed them for its own, or exhibited them as tro¬ 
phies, which her sages had won in the fields of science; and 
when we have advanced as high as profane history, or the ima¬ 
gination of the poet can lead us, we still find that they ascribe 
them to a better and a golden age, when the Gods held converse 
with mortals—when the earth brought forth its increase sponta¬ 
neously and without labour—when the storm of human passions 
had not learned to vie with the “war of elements,” and when 
Astrea threw the mantle of her protection over her happy chil¬ 
dren. 

From these considerations we may draw two conclusions. 
First: that those general principles of morality and religion, 
which have been received in a state of more or less purity 
amongst all nations, are not to be ascribed to the deductions of 
any philosopher, or the silent successive elaboration of reason; 
inasmuch as they are to be found in the earliest ages, and were 


1 “Praeterea non videtur mihi sapere indolem antiquissimorum temporum 
iste modus philosopliandi per hypotheses et principiorum systemata; quem 
modum, ab introductis Atomis, statim sequebantur philosophi. Haec Graeca- 
nica sunt, ut par est credere, et sequioris sevi. Durasse mihi videtur ultra 
Trojana tempora philosophia traditiva, quae ratiociniis et causarum expli- 
cationc non nitebatur, sed alterius generis et originis doctrina, primigenia et 
norpoTrapaJorw.” —Burnet’s Archaeol. Phil. Lib. 1. c. 6. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


109 


then regarded, not merely as human institutions, but as laws 
which had been received from heaven, and which were sanctioned 
by a Divine Authority. Whether human reason were ever ade¬ 
quate to their discovery, is a question which cannot be solved 
by an appeal to history or experience, since no experiment of 
this kind was ever made upon its power or weakness. The se¬ 
cond conclusion inevitably follows from the preceding: viz. that 
the ancient philosophers were not placed in such a situation as 
to give us a fair specimen how far human reason, unassisted, 
could conduct her investigations, inasmuch as they themselves 
were favoured with a general knowledge of those preliminary 
principles, which, as we have shewn already, first came into the 
world by Revelation. This is enough to prove that those sages 
of antiquity, who are sometimes brought forward as instances of 
the perfection to which natural religion is capable of being ad¬ 
vanced by its votaries:—this is enough to prove that they were 
far from being in a condition so forlorn as some have imagined, 
since they were in possession of those ancient traditions, which 
when divested of their fabulous and mythological dress, one 
would have thought, might have led them to some happier con¬ 
clusions. 

• 2. But this is not the only source from which they might be 
able to draw information upon these subjects. Let us recollect 
for a moment, that there was one nation which formed an ex¬ 
ception—there was one people who were called out and separa¬ 
ted from the rest of the world, we mean the Jews, the descend¬ 
ants of Abraham. They were under the immediate government of 
the Deity—to them were committed the “oracles of God,” which 
alone could give a rational account of the creation of the world— 
the fall of man—the attributes of God, and his dealings with 
the human race. “In no age has God left himself without wit¬ 
ness.” There was one Goshen in the intellectual as well as the 
geographical world, where light shone, whilst the rest, who did 
not like to retain “God in all their thoughts,” were involved in 
a more than Egyptian darkness. It is not the proper place 
here, nor in fact will our present limits allow us to shew how 
the chosen race, were topographically and politically connected 


110 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM, 


with, the nations of antiquity. It is sufficient to observe that, 
at one time or other, they came in contact with each of the four 
great successive empires—the Assyrian, the Persian, the Mace¬ 
donian, and the Roman. Sometimes they were in a state of 
war, and sometimes in relations of amity and peace. 

If we call to mind those extraordinary circumstances which 
brought them into notice with the Assyrian Emperors, as for 
instance, the three Hebrew youths that were thrown into the 
fiery furnace, because they would not fall down and worship the 
image which had been erected by the king in the plains of Dura, 
and the decree which was issued immediately after, acknowledg¬ 
ing the supremacy of the God of the Jews:—if we recollect the 
high reputation which Daniel had acquired in the courts of Ne¬ 
buchadnezzar, Belshazzar, and afterwards of Cyrus, and the 
successive edicts which “went forth” through all the provinces 
of the Persian Empire, under their different kings, relative to the 
Jews and the re-building of the temple, and also the favourable 
manner in which they were treated by Alexander, when he had 
overrun all Asia:—if we call to mind that finally they fell under 
the yoke of the Romans, and that all those nations which had an 
opportunity of conversing with the Jews, had a correspondence 
with each other either successively or collaterally:—and if we 
at the same time call to mind their frequent captivities and dis¬ 
persions among other nations, that their opinions and religious 
ceremonies were not only tolerated, but that they erected syna¬ 
gogues and places of worship, in all the most noted cities of the 
ancient Roman Empire; it may be easily imagined, when we 
consider the care with which they preserved their sacred books, 
how their tenets might be dispersed amongst the different 
nations where they resided.—And there is also what the anci¬ 
ents would consider a singularity in their religion which instead 
of being repulsive, would invite attention, merely for the sake 
of satisfying curiosity. All the other religions of paganism 
tolerated each other, that is, since they did not know which 
was the right one, they were indifferent; and the philosophers 
too came to the conclusion, that it was incumbent upon every 
one, to worship pa trio more , according to the custom of the 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


Ill 


country—by which means religion was put under the power of 
the civil magistrate. 1 Nevertheless at the same time they admit¬ 
ted among them the local divinities of other nations, which was 
particularly the case at Rome, where they had a temple, called 
the Pantheon, appropriated for their reception. But the Jewish 
religion did not allow this. The first article of their creed was, 
that there was only one God, and that he alone was to be wor¬ 
shipped a—truth, the importance of which, they had been taught 
by their sufferings, and which, at the same time, set them at an 
infinite distance from idolatry, which was the religion of almost 
every nation under heaven. It is true that they were despised 
as a people, by the generality of Pagans—they were looked upon 
as insulated by their manners and religious ceremonies from the 
rest of the world—as governed by laws, which, according to the 
observation of Tacitus, “ were the reverse of every thing known 
to any other age or country;” yet we know that this contempt 
did not act as an incubus upon their zeal for the propagation of 
their doctrines. The spirit of proselytism was a prominent fea¬ 
ture in the character of the Jews, as we are told by Horace, 
and it may easily be accounted for; since, in affairs of this kind 
as well as in politics, it very generally happens that the strength 
of the vortex, is in proportion to the narrowness of the circle. 

3. But not only were the doctrines and opinions of the Jews 
accessible to the Pagan philosophers, by means of their political 
connexion, but there were other sources, from whence no doubt 
many of them obtained information. We know that the original 
traditions were preserved throughout the Eastern nations in a 
more unadulterated state, than in any other quarter of the world. 
Whether it arose from mere accident, or whether the other nations 
became more barbarous by their frequent removals and the spirit 
of emigration which they had imbibed, or whether it is not more 
properly to be ascribed to their proximity to the Jews, and that 


x See Warburton’s Divine Legation of Moses. b. 2. s. 6. “iEquum 
est quicquid omnes colunt unum putari; eadem spectamus astra ; commune 
coelum est; idem nosmundus involvit: Quid interest qua quisque prudentia 
verum requirat? Uno itinere non potest perveniri ad tarn grande secretum.” 
Symmachus. lib. 10. ep, 01. 



112 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


part of the country they inhabited, being 1 the theatre upon which 
the Almighty was pleased to exhibit the wonderful displays of 
his wisdom and power; but whatever might be the reasons, the 
fact is incontrovertible. Now, would it not render our present 
discourse a little too lengthy, passages might be cited from Cle¬ 
mens Alexandrinus, 1 Diogenes Laertius, from St. Augus¬ 
tine , 2 Strabo , 3 Theodoret , 4 Josephus , 5 Pliny , 6 Isocra¬ 
tes , 7 from Quintilian , 8 and in fact from almost all the ancient 
fathers and philosophers who had occasion to speak of these 
subjects, shewing that Thales, Pythagoras, and Plato, along 
with many others, travelled throughout the East for the sake of 
acquiring knowledge. This was the fountain from whence they 
drew their “stolen waters”—this was the country which they 
traversed for the sake of “meeting the sun in his strength.” 
“The East (says Dr. Leland) was the source of knowledge, 
from whence it was communicated to the western parts of the 
world. There the most precious remains of ancient tradition 
were found. Thither the most celebrated Greek philosophers 
travelled in quest of science, or the knowledge of things divine 
and human, and thither the law-givers had recourse, in order to 
their being instructed in laws and civil policy.” It is true that 
the high-minded Greek, with a vain-glory utterly unworthy of 
him, exalted himself into an attitude of supercilious contempt 
over the rest of the world. His own country was the only one 
which his national pride would permit him to dignify with the 
title of civilized; and the odious epithet of barbarians was freely 
and unsparingly imposed upon every one who differed from 
him, not merely in language, but the niceties of dialect. Yet he 
was obliged to visit these barbarians—he was obliged to leave his 
native country, and “set out upon an Ulyssean tour,” for the 
sake of gathering the broken fragments, in the “land of aliens.” 

4. There is also another circumstance which may be briefly 
noticed, we mean the translation of the Hebrew Scriptures into 
the Greek language. This took place in the reign of Ptolemy 


1 Strom, lib. 1. z De Civitate Dei. lib. 8. cap. 4. 3 Lib. 17. 4 Lib. 5. 
Adversus Gentes. 5 Contra Appion. lib 1. in initio. 6 Hist. Nat. lib. 3. 
cap. 1. 7 In Busiride. 8 Instit. Orat. lib. 1. cap. 12. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


113 


% 


Philadelphia, about two hundred and seventy-seven years 
before the Christian era. He was a great promoter of learning 
and learned men, and appears to have first imbibed his spirit of 
emulation from the kings of Attalus. “When the kings of At- 
talus (says \ itruvius), being allured by the exquisite pleasures 
of learning, had founded an excellent library at Pergamus, for 
the amusement and instruction of the public, then Ptolemy 
also, with infinite zeal and industry, acted upon the same plan 
at Alexandria.” 1 Whether he was desirous to be acquainted 
with the history, antiquities, and opinions of the Jewish nation, 
as a mere matter of curiosity; or whether it was undertaken 
through the desire of accommodating the Alexandrian Jews, 
who were very numerous, it is of no great consequence to deter¬ 
mine. But whatever might be his motives, the translation was 
completed; and whatever may be its errors and defects, it was 
sufficiently accurate, to give them proper ideas upon those sub¬ 
jects, which to the Greek philosophers, were matters of keen 
investigation. “By this translation of the Scriptures into Greek 
(says Dr. Townley), Divine Providence prepared the way for 
the preaching of the Gospel, which was then approaching, and 
facilitated the promulgation of it amongst many nations, by the 
instrumentality of the finest, most copious, and most correct 
language, that ever was spoken; and which became common to 
all countries, conquered by Alexander; and to this version, 
many of the most celebrated heathen philosophers were indebted 
for their most correct notions of the being and perfections of 
God, as well as for their best and purest sentiments of mora¬ 
lity.” 2 


1 Vitruvius de Architect, in Prefat. ad. lib. 7. 

2 To wnley’s Illustrations of Biblical Literature. Vol. 1. p. 62. 


N 



114 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


ON THE ORIGIN OF NATURAL RELIGION. 

SECT. II. 

1. Ancient tradition, notwithstanding Us corruption, may still he 
recognized. 2. The first corruption of it is to he charged 
upon the poets. 3. The philosophers sacrificed it in order to 
accommodate every thing to their own theories. 4. This may 
be very clearly illustrated by the conduct of those philoso¬ 
phers who flourished after the Christian era. 

1. The foregoing may serve as a slight sketch of the various 
sources which were accessible to the most civilized of the Pagans; 
and certainly the mass of evidence which might be produced, 
ought to render us a little less peremptory in concluding, that 
those truths and lofty sentiments which may he occasionally met 
with amongst Pagan writers, are the obvious and natural deduc¬ 
tions of reason, merely because we find them existing in the 
writings of those who never enjoyed the benefits of a direct and 
immediate Revelation. Without coming to such a conclusion 
as this, which in the nature of things, is so far removed from 
probability, we plainly see that there are other ways, by which 
the problem may be solved, and other causes which may account 
for the phenomenon. After the sun has finished his career, and 
descended to give light and heat to other regions of this “ terres¬ 
trial ball,” how foolish would it be for the philosopher to assert, 
that the glimmering light, which still shed its dim lustre over 
the “sober livery” of nature, was not to be attributed to the 
“beauteous eye of heaven,” but to the atmosphere which we 
breathe, merely because the luminary itself is not visible! and 
in the present instance, the conclusion, though not cpiite so 
glaring, is equally as preposterous. We do not deny that many 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


115 


<){ the analogies which may be brought to light, by the aid of 
a fertile imagination, betwixt the traditions, history, and opinions 
of the Pagans, and those who were favoured with a perfect Reve¬ 
lation of the patriarchal religion—we do not deny that some of 
these may seem fanciful, and that there may be a great variety of 
opinions, as soon as we think of accounting for the most trifling 
minutiae', still we want an explanation why the coincidence in 
general should be so striking; and it cannot be admitted that 
the whole mass of evidence must be disregarded, merely because 
one argument happens to be defective. No single argument of 
this kind can be looked upon as conclusive, though at the same 
time their individual strength, when united, may become irresist¬ 
ible; and in some cases, we will not say their obviousness, but 
even their latency, may throw an additional weight into the scale 
of probability. In this respect, ancierit. tradition, as it has been 
well expressed, seems to be something similar to a traveller, who 
has almost lost the hue of his complexion, and his original ha¬ 
bits and manners, by the change of climate and a long residence 
amongst foreigners,—yet as there are some indelible marks by 
which his former friends and acquaintance are still able to re¬ 
cognize him, so with respect to tradition, there are some certain 
crny^ocTcc which give us an idea of its original character, and direct 
us to the source from whence it was derived. In order therefore, 
to discover the extent and antiquity of truth (says the same 
writer), we must imitate the example of Thales, who first mea¬ 
sured the height of the mountains by the length of their sha¬ 
dows. 

2. There is no doubt, as we have already observed, that much 
of this obscurity and error, is to be ascribed to the poets, who, 
it is well known, in the rude and barbarous ages of Greece, first 
invested themselves with the character of the theologian. 1 They 
sung of the generation' of the gods, and the creation of the 
world. “Orpheus is handed down to us as a philosopher who 


i So Heinsius interpretsCarmina by “dicta philosophorum ; causaest quia 
dicta ilia brevia, quibus Sententias suas de Deo deque reliquis includebant, 
a^OjotEva. dicebant, i. e. Carmina.”—Dissert, in Hes. Cap. 6. 




116 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


taught the knowledge of God, and laid down the rudiments of 
science 1 —as a lawgiver, who reformed his countrymen, or rather, 
who brought a set of savages to live in society, 2 —and as a priest 
who established the worship of God, - and instituted the sacred 
rights of religion. 3 Accordingly we are informed, that both he 
and his pupil MusvEUS travelled into Egypt, and in that land 
of wonder and admiration, acquired the first principles of that 
mythology, which he afterwards taught, 4 and which then branch¬ 
ed out into its full luxuriance. Here it was that he first learned 
to sing of the generation of the gods, of the birth of the giants, of 
the creation of the world, and of the origin of man.—He sung, 
we are told, of the ether, as separated from night and chaos; of 
the light that first illuminated the world; 5 of love, as the operat¬ 
ing principle in this work. 6 —He distinguished a first cause 
from inferior ministers, 7 and in order to impress these lessons 
more powerfully on the minds of his wondering audience, he 
professed in all to be inspired by Phoebus, or the power of Divine 
illumination.” 3 

Now, there is very little wonder, that when the poets endea¬ 
voured to bring these sublime speculations under the dominion 
of metaphor and allegory, which, how ever capable they may be 
of pleasing the imagination, and interesting the passions, yet, 
are by no means the best vehicle for the conveyance of simple 
truth;—there is no wonder, that in length of time, their system 
itself, should become the finest representative of that elemental 
chaos, which was the “burden” of their song. “They made it 
their design (says Stillingfleet) to disguise all their ancient 
stories under fables, in which they were so lost, that they could 
never recover them afterwards. For the elder poets of Greece, 
being men of greater learning than generally the people were 
of, and being conversant in Egypt and other parts, did bring in 
new reports of the ancient times, which they received from the 
nations they went to; and by mixing their own traditions and 


1 Suidas. i Aristophanes. 3 Sacer, interpresque Deorum.— Horace, 

a Herodotus. 5 Suidas. 6 Argonaut. 7 Orphei Carmina. 3 Ogilvie's 

Essay on Lyric Poetry, p. 39—43. ' 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


117 


others together, and by suiting what was remaining of the anci¬ 
ent tradition to these, they must needs make a strange confusion 
of things together, and leave them much more obscure and fabu¬ 
lous than they found them. And herein all their cunning and 
subtlety lay, in putting a new face on whatever they borrowed 
from other nations, and making them appear in a Greek habit, 
that the former owners of these traditions, could scarce challenge 
them as theirs, under so strange a metamorphosis. For those 
things which were most plain and historical, in the fountains 
whence they derived them, they did so TsparsoEiv as Clemens 
AleXANDRINUS 1 speaks, (or as ORIGEN, 2 Trapaxyo-avrE? avETrXao-av) 
wrapt them up under so great mythology, that the original 
truths can hardly be discerned, because of that multitude of 
prodigious fables with which they have inlaid them. But as 
great as their artifice was in doing this, we may yet discern ap¬ 
parently many of those particular courses which were taken by 
them to disguise and alter the primitive tradition.” 3 

3. Neither were the philosophers themselves backward to¬ 
wards contributing to the general confusion. They were subtle 
and fiery spirits, who placed their fame in their wisdom, and per¬ 
mitted nothing to pass as current coin, except what had experi¬ 
enced the ordeal of their philosophical principles, and been 
legally stamped with the authoritative ipse dixit of some noted 
rabbi of the Portico, the Grove, the Academus, or the Lyceum. 
Unlike the Baconian philosophy, their theories were never 
founded upon an induction of particulars, and a collation of 
analogous phenomena. In their disposition and way of think¬ 
ing, they seem more to have resembled the chemist, who, as the 
French philosopher tells the story, imagined that he had deve¬ 
loped a theory which would account for several phenomena, 
which till that time, were perfectly inexplicable; but when he 
was told that the effects to which he referred, were of a nature 
quite the reverse of what he suspected, he deliberately asked, what 
was their specific character, in order that he might adapt them 
to his own principles. This was exactly the disposition of the 


iStrom. 6. 2 Contra Celsum. lib. 4. 


3 0rigines Sacrae. Vol. 2. p. 145. 




118 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


Greeks. To institute a course of painful investigation, and to 
bottom their theories upon an induction of particulars, as broad 
and extensive as their sphere of knowledge would allow—would 
have been a task far too laborious and unfashionable for a phi¬ 
losopher, whose fame was to be founded upon the oddness of his 
opinions, and his pertinacity and subtlety in defending them. 
Such a plan would have required a slower and a steadier march, 
and the circle which bounded them would not have allowed 
them to push their investigations beyond things visible and of 
common apprehension. No room would have been left for the 
play of hypotheses, or the unfinished and misshapen abortions 
of an unbridled imagination. Hence it appeared to them to be 
far preferable to lay down certain axioms, 1 which might serve 
as landmarks, from which their inquiries were to start, and in 
which they were to terminate. 2 These axioms, though they 
might not have much reason on their side, yet at least had the 
shew of it; there was a semblance of a foundation, though ever 
and anon, the nodding of the superstructure intimated that it 
was visionary and airy. However difficult it might be to recon¬ 
cile the varied phenomena of the physical and moral world, 
with those principles which they had adopted, yet that difficulty 
was not to be charged upon the falsehood or insufficiency of the 
theory; but the asperity was to be smoothed down, and the 
facts were to be tortured into accordance with their favourite 
notions. Like the tailors of Laputa, mentioned by Swift, in 
the travels of his hero, they bad got, what they thought, mea¬ 
sures in perfect agreement with what ought to be the “ beau- 
ideal” of human symmetry; consequently, if the suits of apparel 
did not fit the individual, the blame was not to be attached to 


1 “This (says Bacon) was the bane of ancient philosophy.” Aphor. 125. 

2 “The possession of a general maxim, sanctioned by the authority of an 
illustrious name, and in which, as in those of the schoolmen, ‘ more seems to 
be meant than meets the ear,’ affords of itself no slight gratification to the 
vanity of many; nor is it inconvenient for a disputant, that the maxims to 
which he is to appeal should be stated in so dubious a shape, as to enable 
him, when pressed in an argument, to shift his ground at pleasure, from one 
interpretation to another.”— Stewart’s Prelim. Diss. Encyc. Brit. p. 132. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


119 


the unskillulness or neglect ol the operative, since he wrought by 
rule and compass, but to the awkwardness of the customer, and 
his want of proportion. 

f or the sake of illustrating what we have said, we may take 
for instance the opinion of the Pythagoreans, concerning the 
pre-existence and eternity of the soul a parte ante. In discus¬ 
sing this question, they did not inquire into their own conscious¬ 
ness, whether it would warrant them in drawing the conclusion 
that they had enjoyed an anterior state of existence—that they 
had experienced all the movements of their intellectual and 
moral system, before they had been enshrined in this earthly 
tabernacle. No! This was not the method of proceeding. 
Neglecting such an argument as this, as being of no weight in 
the opposite scale, they cut the cable, and ran a fearless career. 
They, however, founded their opinion upon two principles which 
are incontrovertible, and admitted by all sober theists. The 
first was, that God was a being of pure and absolute benevolence, 
and consequently, that he took delight in lavishing his goodness 
upon rational and intelligent agents;—the second, that the 
human soul had a capacity for enjoying happiness. Since, 
therefore, the Divine Being has been invested with these attri¬ 
butes, from all eternity, and since the nature of man is capable 
of being happy; from these premises they drew the conclusion, 
that human souls are eternal, and must have existed in a state 
prior to the present, or otherwise the moral perfections of the 
Godhead must be impugned. By following the same plan of 
reasoning, other philosophers demonstrated that the world and 
the whole aggregate of beings, must be eternal. They tell us 
that God is good, and that the world is a demonstration of his 
goodness; and from these principles it follows, that it must have 
been an eternal emanation of his eternal benevolence. In this 
case also, w r e meet with a similar neglect of inductive reasoning. 
They paid no attention to that original tradition, concerning 
the formation of the world, which had spread, as Plutarch tells 
us, 1 amongst all nations, and had been transmitted down to 


1 De Iside et Osiride, Cap. 45. Ed. Oxon 



120 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


their successors, by the most ancient theologians of every coun¬ 
try. The poet too, 1 wished to know, if there had been no “geni¬ 
talis origo ,”—“no origin” of the world, why no poets had sung 
of wars and battles before Homer celebrated his heroes; he 
wished to be informed why the arts and sciences had not attain¬ 
ed to a higher degree of perfection, if the world had been eter¬ 
nal; and yet such arguments as these, in defence of the “novitas 
mumdi ,” could weigh nothing with an Aristotle, who allowed 
that his opinion contradicted that of every preceding philoso¬ 
pher. 2 But it was the later Platonists, who pressed the above ar¬ 
gument into the service of this “ insanientis sapientice.” They did 
not perceive, that though in their own eyes they exalted the good¬ 
ness of the Deity, yet at the same time, they threw up a barrier 
against his liberty of will, by making the world a necessary 
emanation of his benevolence; as the light, according to their 
own expression, proceeds from the sun, as soon as it rises above 
the horizon. This, however, they disregarded. They thought 
that their premises warranted the conclusion, and thus they 
were reckless of consequences. 

Now this will help us more clearly to understand, what little 
difficulty the philosophers would find in moulding the relics of 
ancient tradition, and those accessions of information which 
they received from the Phenicians, Egyptians and Jews, into 
such a form as would be compatible with their pre-conceived 
notions and established theories. Hence Philo Byblius, the 
Greek translator of Sanchoniatho, complains that the Greeks 
converted all the oriental traditions into fable and allegory. 
Plato himself tells us, that though they received many things 
from the barbarians, because they were “ older than the Greeks/’ 3 
yet “they improved them, and put them into a better fashion,” 
xccXXiov tsto TsXog uTrtyyaZcmc/A. 4 ' They might also have a further 
motive, either to screen their opinions from the vulgar, 5 or to 
ward off the imputation of borrowing from the Jews, a nation 


1 Lucretius, Lib. 5.—See Macrobius in Somnio Scipionis, Lib. 2. c. 10. 

^ De Caelo, lib. 1. c. 10. Ed. Paris. 3 In Cratylo. 4 InEpinora. 

p. 1012. Ed. Ficin. 5 The vulgar doctrine was called the exoteric. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


121 


Vvho were so much despised by the haughty and civilized Greeks. 
Hence Origen 1 conjectures, that lie has found some traces of 
the fall of man in the Symposiacs of Plato, though veiled with 
a cloud of mystery, and that because it was the custom of the 
philosopher to wrap up in fable psyaXa. the most important 
doctrines, roXXag on account of the vulgar. It is well 

known, that Plato was acquainted with the doctrine of the 
Trinity. He had li is to ayaOov the good, vug or intellect, and 
the yog or framer of the universe, that was the cause 

of all motion which exists in material forms. “Mens agitat 
molern” z “Yet, though he had adopted this mysterious dogma, 
he seems to be afraid of revealing it to the prophane. He 
envelops it in clouds in his famous letter to the three friends; 
he teaches it to Dionysius of Syracuse, but by enigmas, as he 
himself says, lest his tablets falling into the hands of some 
stranger, they should be read and understood. Perhaps the 
recollection of the recent death of Socrates imposed this re¬ 
serve upon him.” i * 3 This was most probably the case; for “mat¬ 
ters of religion (says Archbishop Potter), blasphemy against 
the gods, contempt of the holy mysteries, and all sorts of impi¬ 
ety;—the consecration also of new gods, erection of temples and 
altars, and the introduction of new ceremonies into divine worship, 
were referred to the judgment of the court of Areopagus : there¬ 
fore, Plato, having been instructed in the knowledge of one God 
in Egypt, was forced to dissemble or conceal his opinion, for fear 
of being called to an account for it by the Areopagites; and 
Saint Paul was arraigned before them, as a setter forth of strange 
gods, when he preached unto them Jesus and avxcrrourig or the 
Resurrection.” 4 This court was extremely severe, and noted 
for the rigour of its judgment. Aristotle himself was obliged 
to retire to Chalcis, because he found that the city “was full of 
sycophants,” and he was afraid, (in manifest allusion to the death 
of Socrates) lest the city should offend twiceagainst philosophy. 5 


i Con. Cels. Lib. 4. p. 189. Ed. Spenc. 2 Virg. iEn. 3M. Abel 

Remusat. a Justin Martyr.—Potter’s Antiquities of Greece. Vol. 1. 

p. 105. 5 ^Elian. cap. 3. p. 36. 


O 





122 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


These observations will make it a little more intelligible why, 
considering the means of information which were placed within 
the reach of the ancient philosophers, we do not meet with still 
more evident indications of their connexion with the fountain 
of revealed truth? In the first place, we see that they were 
scarcely ingenuous enough to acknowledge per quos profecerint — 
they were unwilling to betray the natural poverty of their home¬ 
bred philosophy; and it was far from being conformable to the 
dictates of their national pride, to allow that they were indebted 
for information on such important subjects, to the Pagan bar¬ 
barians, or a nation, that was looked down upon by a philoso¬ 
phic spirit, with no other feeling, but that of contempt. The 
obscurity arising from this cause, might have been still further 
heightened by a desire of accommodating the literary resources 
of other countries to their own pre-conceivecl notions, and con¬ 
sequently, moulding every tenet that bore an hostile aspect 
towards the theories which they had adopted, into a more 
fashionable shape, or sinking it altogether into fable and alle- 
gory. 

4. But nothing can better illustrate what we have said, or 
shew the readiness with which the ancient philosophers were 
accustomed to seize upon every thing that would throw a light 
upon these abstruse subjects, than the line of conduct which was 
pursued by their successors, when Christianity was first promul¬ 
gated, and when the nations who were “in the valley of the sha¬ 
dow of death,” were visited by the “day-spring” from on high. 
Whatever objections they might raise against the evidences by 
which the system was established, or the character of its first 
preachers—they could not but perceive, notwithstanding the 
peculiarity of the medium by which God was to be reconciled to 
his offending subjects—they could not but perceive, that it con¬ 
tained just views of the attributes of the Deity, and the condition 
of man;—a fact, which is allowed by all sober theists. 

The fact is, that a great improvement took place in philosophy, 
and many things, which before had appeared dark and inexpli¬ 
cable, were now looked upon as the obvious deductions of rea¬ 
son, although they were explained or suggested by principles 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


123 


which were drawn from Revelation. They found them to be 
conformable to the simplest dictates of nature, and by their 
universal application, capable of explaining every variety of 
P hasis which was level to their observation. We may take, for 
instance, one of their lavourite questions, the origin of evil. 
Some of the ancient philosophers imagined that it originated 
fiom the perversity of matter—a quality which, according to 
their opinion, was inherent in it, and over which the Deity has 
no control. To this purpose quotations are given by Stilling- 
fleet, from Maximus Tyrius, 1 Seneca, 2 and others, the latter 
of whom says, “ Non potest artifex mutare materiam ,” “God can¬ 
not change matter, not that he wanted art, but because matter 
was inobsequens arti, not subject to art.” Others, on the contra¬ 
ry, derived evil from an independent anti-god. This, according 
to Plutarch, 3 was a very ancient opinion, and one which was 
the most extensive, being evidently founded upon the tradition 
of the fall of man, by him “ who was a murderer from the be¬ 
ginning.” But as soon as Christianity appeared, the mists and 
obscurity of paganism were speedily dissipated. The followers 
of Plato, Porphyry, Iamblichus, Simplicius, Hierocles, 
along with others, then began to talk about free-will—how the 
nature of man was divided betwixt two powers—his appetites 
or affections, and his judgment or reasoning faculty. They then 
saw clearly how what ought to be the inferior, might rebel 
against the superior; and how man, by complying with the 
impulse of passion, might entail misery upon himself and his 
posterity, by reason of that connexion which is established by 
the supreme Governor of the world, betwixt certain actions and 
their never-failing consequences. This appeared to them as a 
rational inference. Yet they were as unwilling as their prede¬ 
cessors, to acknowledge their obligations; and what was justly 
owing to supernatural instruction, they made no scruple of 
ascribing to the vigorous grasp of their own intellectual powers. 
“Which of your poets, which of your sophists (saysTERTULLiAN 4 ) 


i Dissertat. 25. ^.De Providentia. c. 5. Prsef. ad Nat. Quaest. 3 De Iside 
et Osiride. cap. 45. 4 See Stillingfleet’s Origines Sacrae. Vol. 2. p. 75. 





124 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


have not drunk from the fountains of the prophets, irrigare sitim 
ex fonte prophetarum P It is from these sacred sources likewise, 
that your philosophers have refreshed their thirsty spirits; and 
if they found any thing in the Holy Scriptures to please their 
fancy, or to serve their hypotheses, they twined it to their own 
purpose, and made it serve their curiosity; neither considering 
these writings to be sacred and unalterable, nor understanding 
their sense; every one taking or leaving, adopting or re-mo¬ 
deling, as his imagination led him. Nor do I wonder, that the 
philosophers played such false tricks with the Old Testament, 
when I find some of the same generation among ourselves, who 
have made as bold with the New, and composed a deadly mix¬ 
ture of gospel and opinion, led by a philosophizing vanity.” 
They appear to have paid more attention to Plato than to the 
Bible, and whenever the doctrines of the latter, stood in opposi¬ 
tion to the former, that hostility was not to be removed by any 
compromise on the part of their pre-conceived notions. The 
authoritative dictates of an erring philosophy were to be main¬ 
tained, and if any conciliation should be adopted, it w as to be 
at the expense of Revelation. Those who are at all acquaint¬ 
ed with Ecclesiastical History, must be aware of the conse¬ 
quences to which this heterogeneous mixture of philosophy and 
religion gave rise—of the heresies which it introduced and en¬ 
tailed upon the church. It may be truly said, without any 
degree of exaggeration, that this male sana admixtio of things 
divine and human, which has been so strongly denounced / by 
Lord Bacon, 1 has been the death-blow of vital Christianity, and 
has drawn off the attention of the Christian world from the less 
welcome, yet more imperious duties of Revelation, that it might 
fix it upon her friends and antagonists, mixing up all the acrimo¬ 
nious virulence of controversy with the vain endeavour of not 
merely stating, but explaining facts which are incomprehensible, 
and “darkening counsel by words without knowledge.” 

1 “ And so mnch the more is this vanity to be restrained, because by such 
an amalgamation of things divine and human, we shall be in danger of pro¬ 
ducing a phantastical philosophy and an heretical religion. It is therefore 
extremely salutary, if, with a sober mind, we give to faith, the things that 
belong to her .”—Novum Organum. Aphorism 65. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


125 


ON THE ORIGIN OF NATURAL RELIGION. 

SECT. III. 

1. A recapitulation of the arguments which have been adduced 
in the preceding sections, with some additional observations. 
2. Though we should forget, for a moment, the weight of this 
reasoning, the actual state of their philosophy, is still a suffi¬ 
cient corroboration of the view which we have taken of the 
subject. 

1. We may now finish this subject, by collecting the several 
parts of the arguments, and by bringing them to bear upon the 
point in hand. We have seen, then, that this original Revela¬ 
tion was vouchsafed to the ancestors of our race, at the very 
dawn of creation. It is true, that we cannot prove it directly 
from Scripture, but if we canvass its meaning, as we would that of 
any other book, the inference is irresistible. That original Revel¬ 
ation we find handed down to succeeding generations—confirm¬ 
ed by celestial communications, and whenever its doctrines were 
adulterated and its duties neglected, the Sacred History tells us, 
that that violation and corruption, were punished by the most 
signal displays of the Divine vengeance. The flood may be 
given as an extraordinary instance, the tradition of which has 
been found more or less jmre amongst all nations, ancient and 
modern. After the building of the Tower of Babel, we find, 
that the different nations were dispersed into different regions, 
classing themselves according to the language which they spoke, 
and which was now become the sole bond of union. Greece, 
with the opinions of whose philosophers, we are at present the 
most intimately concerned, appears from the passages which 


126 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


have been cited by learned men from ancient writers, to have 
been first peopled by the TlsXouryoi, who, according- to Strabo, 
were a barbarous and wandering nation (7roAi/7rAavov—sQoj), and 
migrated to and fro through the greatest part of Europe. 1 From 
all the accounts which have descended to us, Greece must have 
been reduced to an extreme degree of barbarism, by reason of 
rapine and its unsettled way of living. In after ages, Cadmus 
came over from Phenicia, attended with a few followers, and 
gave the first impulse to the tide of civilization, by introducing 
letters amongst the Aborigines of the country, according to the 
concurrent testimony of historians. 2 Since, therefore, Cadmus 
came from the East, as his name signifies, and since the Oriental 
quarter of the world, as we have already stated, had preserved 
the original traditions in a greater degree of purity—we may 
easily conceive how those faint recollections of u olden times ” 
might be revived by those new settlers, who came recommended 
miraculo literarum, a circumstance which Livy tells us, when 
speaking of Evander, has great effect upon uncivilized people. 3 
The Greeks appear to have formed a very early connexion with 
the Egyptians, whose learning must have been very considera¬ 
ble, since it is spoken of so highly in the Sacred Scriptures. 
Macrobius tells us, that the Egyptians were “omnium discipli- 
narum philosophiceque parentes .” 4 “Concerning the Egyptians 
(says Theodoret), I think it superfluous to say any thing, 
since the first philosophers allow that they were superior to 
those who were the most celebrated among the Greeks, and 
praise them as being extraordinary for their wisdom, as the 
Greeks themselves borrowed many things from them.” 5 —It was 

1 Lib. 13. p. 247.—Lib. 12. p. 394. 2 This is fully acknowledged by 

the Greek writers, and the evidence becomes stronger when we consider that 

“the most ancient Greek Tongue approaches much nearer the Eastern lan¬ 

guages, than those dialects of it used by even the oldest Greek Classics, as ap¬ 
pears from the obsolete radices of that tongue, which generally discover a 
near relation to the East. * * * The proximity of the earliest Greek lan¬ 
guage to the Oriental tongues, was well known to Isaac Casaubon, and 
Erpenius, and may be so to any one who examines the Greek books with 
proper attention .”—Universal History, Vol. 16. p. 53. 8 vo. Edit. 

3“ Venerabilis vir, miraculo literarum, rei novae inter homines artium 
rudes.” 4 Saturnalia, Lib. 1. cap. 15. 5 Lib. 5. Advers. Gentes. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


127 


not long too, before political relations grew up betwixt Greece 
and Persia—a country, which by the conquest of Assyria, had 
brought itself into contact with the Jews—a circumstance, from 
which it derived great benefit, since, very soon after, a great 
reformation in the Magian religion, was effected by Zoroaster, 
who embodied in his Zendavesta, very many of the opinions 
and religious ceremonies, by which the “ chosen people” were 
distinguished from the surrounding nations.—Whatever acces¬ 
sion to its knowledge it might derive from these quarters, it 
could not but be increased in the time of Alexander, who be¬ 
haved very kindly to the Jews, and granted them several immu¬ 
nities. Ey his arms, the Greek language was disseminated 
throughout the East, 1 and the cosmogony and history of the 
Jews were no longer locked up in a language unknown to the 
learned of other countries. Whatever knowledge was possessed 
by the Greeks, was quickly transfused into the Latin language, 
as soon as civilization had flowed in upon the conquerors from 
the more polished nations who submitted to their iron yoke. 

“Graecia capta ferum victorem cepit, et artes 

Intulit agresti Latio.” 2 

It is very seldom, that a nation, when it has lately emerged 
from a state of barbarism, pays any attention to the original 
writers of its own country. Whatever merit they may be pos¬ 
sessed of, yet, they want that indescribable something, which 
throws a shade of mysterious awe over those who are gone hence, 
and who have acquired a kind of divinity by being no longer 
interested in the little passions and pursuits of our common na¬ 
ture. Those with whom we happen to be surrounded and con¬ 
versant, however high they may stand in ‘‘academic lore” or 
“lofty in general authorship,” have too much of the common 
frame-work of mortality—too much of those common and uni¬ 
versally diffused feelings; so that though the imagination may 
allow, that they may belong to “those spirits whom nature has 
touched for great issues,” yet, we cannot class them amongst 
a superior order of beings. The charm is soon dissipated.— 


I “Grseca leguntur in omnibus fere Gentibus.”— Cicero. 2 Horace. 





128 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


The simple comparison strips them of their imaginary dignity, 
and makes them “shrink back to clay again/’ The higher, 
however, we advance, and the stronger is the delusion. We feel 
ourselves “living amidst the creations” of those, over whom, 
antiquity and obscurity have thrown a veil, which, though it is 
impenetrable, for that very reason, tempts us to fill up the scenes 
which it hides from our view, with all the sublime of character 
and intellect, and that spirit of chivalrous daring, by which man 
is so much exalted “above his fellows.” There may be great 
quaintness of expression in an observation of a French critic, 
“ that Homer is a thousand years better than Virgil,” —yet, 
there is too much truth in it to be disregarded. We do not say 
(because it is not what we are at present engaged in), that this 
superiority results from a comparison of their internal and spe¬ 
cific excellence, but from those feelings which are so intimately 
blended with all our conceptions. “ Let us pay the same adora¬ 
tion to Ennius (says Quintilian 1 ), as we do to those groves 
that are sanctified by antiquity, in which the aged and towering 

i 

oaks, *jam non tantam habent speciem, quantam religionem ,’ do 
not so much excite admiration by their appearance, as a kind of 
religious veneration.” 

To return from this digression:—it is no wonder, therefore, 
that Greek learning was in so great repute at Rome. We read 
of Cato learning it in an advanced age, and Horace’s “versate 
nocturna , etc.” seems to have been fully acted upon. The phi¬ 
losophy of the Romans, may therefore be considered merely as 
that of the Greeks transfused into another language, and vari¬ 
ously modified according to the habits or views of the different 
writers. Plato, Aristotle, and Zeno, were as much the mo¬ 
dels of the philosopher, as Demosthenes and Homer, were 
those of the orator and epic poet. However, not a little of this 
is to be attributed to the sublimity, eloquence, and fascinating 
style of the originals. Whatever correct notions the Greeks 
might have upon moral and theological doctrines, it is very easy 
to conceive, how they would be adopted by the Romans, not to 



i Lib. 10. cap. 1. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 129 

mention the information that might be derived from the Jews, a 
great number of whom had taken up their residence, according to 
Josephus, in that overgrown metropolis. To this subject we have 
already adverted, and from a passage cited by Wetstein, from 
Livy, 1 il the historian does really allude to them, it would appear 
that they had found their way into that city, in the early ages 
of the commonwealth. After the Babylonian captivity, when 
the Persian monarch had issued the decree authorizing 1 the Jews 
to return to their native land, and re-build their sacred temple; 
it is evident from Holy Writ, that multitudes of them did not 
take advantage of this permission, but, remained scattered 
throughout the provinces of that vast empire, and were amalga¬ 
mated with the common mass. Piiilo tells us, “that there were 
no less than a million of Jews inhabiting Alexandria, and the 
region which extends onto tig Aifiv-nv ‘from the descent 

into Africa/ to the borders of Ethiopia.” 2 Strabo, cited by Jo¬ 
sephus, 3 tells us, (when speaking of the Jews, in the time when 
Sylla was sent against Mithridates) “that this people had 
already passed into every city, and it would be difficult to find a 
place in the whole world which had not received this nation, and 
been possessed by it.” Neither were they remiss in propagating 
their doctrines in order to obtain proselytes to their religion. 
During the Babylonish captivity, and their dispersion through¬ 
out the vast provinces of the Persian empire, we find that “many 
of the land also became Jews.” 4 Strabo, in a passage to which 
we have just referred, tells us, that “Egypt and the country of 
Cyrene, as being subject to the same princes, and many others 
imitated this people, and were exceedingly favourable to their 
rites, and increased their numbers, by adopting the Jew ish laws.” 
Josephus, when speaking of the Jews, who dwelt at Antioch, in 
Syria, says, that “they were continually bringing over a great 
number of the Gentiles to their religion, whom they made in 
some measure, a part of themselves.” 5 Dio tells us, that though 
“they were often punished at Rome, yet they still vastly increased, 


i Lib. 4. cap. 30. 2 con. Flacc. 3 Antiq. Lib. 14. cap. 7. § 2. 4 Esther, 

viii. 17. 5 De Bello, Lib. 7. cap. 3. § 3. 


P 




130 


LITE RA RY PANCRATIUM. 


so as at length to have obtained a toleration ol' their worship.” 
Seneca complained, that “they were spread through all lands, 
and that the ‘vanquished were givinglaws to the victors/ ‘victi 
victoribus leges dederunt ” 1 “ In consequence of this dispersion 

of the Jews throughout the Roman empire, and the extensive 
commerce which they carried on with other nations, their reli¬ 
gion became known, and the result was, the prevalence of a 
somewhat purer knowledge of the true God among the Gentiles. 
Hence we find that there were many, who though they did not 
adopt the rite of circumcision, yet had acquired a better know¬ 
ledge of the Most High, than the Pagan theology furnished, 
and who, in some respects, conformed to the Jewish religion.” 2 
“All this appears to have been most singularly and wisely 
directed by the adorable hand of an interposing Providence, to 
the end, that the people, which was the sole depository of 
the true religion, and of the knowledge of one supreme God, 
being spread abroad through the whole earth, might be every 
where by their example, a reproach to superstition—contribute 
in some measure, to check it, and thus prepare the way for that 
yet fuller discovery of Divine Truth, which was to shine upon 
the world from the ministry and Gospel of the Son of God.” 3 

We have further glanced at that spirit of enterprise—that 
unquenchable thirst for knowledge, which carried the ancient 
sages to visit the primitive seats of their ancestors—“ exiliis ve- 
rius quam peregrinationibus susceptis .” 4 “ P ythagoras (says Iso¬ 
crates), having travelled into Egypt, in the capacity of a pccdrirn?, 
first brought philosophy among the Greeks, and was more soli¬ 
citous than any of the others about religious rites and sacrificial 
ceremonies.” 5 With respect to those who first introduced 
amongst the Greeks, the spirit of philosophical inquiry, such as 
Pherecydes of Syria, Pythagoras and Thales, along with their 
successors, “it is universally confessed (says Josephus), that 
they were scholars (juaGirrcu) of the Egyptians and Chaldeans.” 6 


i Augustine de Civitate Dei. Lib. 6. cap. 11. 2 Horne’s Introduction 

to the Study of the Scriptures. 3 Mosheim’s Ecclesiastical History, Vol. 1. 
page 38. Ed. 1826. 4 II. N. Lib. 3. cap. 1. 5 In Busiride. 9 Contra 

Appion. Lib. 1. in initio. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


131 


“Plato (says Clemens Alexandrinus), always speaks highly 
of the barbarians, remembering, that both he and Pythagoras 
had learned amongst them, their most dignified sentiments.” 1 
What is Plato (says Numenius), but Moses in the Attic Dialect 
(Attik^uv) ? and that the writings and character of Moses were 
well known to antiquity, we have abundant evidence. He is 
mentioned in the Sybilline Verses, as being one “drawn out from 
the waters,” 2 and receiving from God, the laws of duty and 
justice, written upon two tables. 

T ov vo/xov spavoSfv 7rpo 

Auks Qsog ypa-vfaj 7rAaipv ovw Travra Sikcuo,. 3 

Longinus speaks of him as being a rv%uv awp, “a man of no 
ordinary capacity;” and he praises the imperatoria brevitas, the 
dignified conciseness of his style, in his account of the creation. 4 
Other passages might be produced from Juvenal, Tacitus, 
Pliny, Diodorus Siculus, Justin, Strabo, and other writers 
cited by Josephus ; while at the same time it is evident, from the 
following pleasing quotation, that the most ancient poets were 
acquainted with him, and have shadowed him forth in their 
mythology. 

“Many things (says Stillingfleet), concerning Moses, are 
preserved in the story of Bacchus, not that from thence we are 
to conclude, that Moses was the Bacchus of the Greeks, as Vos- 
sius thinks; but they took several parts of the Eastern tradition 
concerning him, which they might have from the Phenicians who 
came with Cadmus into Greece, while the memory of Moses 
was yet fresh among the Canaanites. In the story of Bacchus, 


1 Strom. Lib. 1. 2 “ In Exodus ii. 10. there is given a Hebrew derivation 

of this word; but the education of Moses among the Egyptians would lead us 
to regard it as of Egyptian origin. So Josephus interprets it, ( Antiq . 11.— 
9. § 6.) ‘ drawn out of the water ’ from water, and vo-ng saved (compare 
y.u water, and oushe to save: see Jablonski. Ed. te Water. T. 1. p. 152— 
157), which is favoured by the Greek manner of writing the name. Accord¬ 
ing to this, the name was slightly altered by the Hebrews, to give it a signi- 
ficancy in their own language.”— Gesenius’ Hebrew and English Lexicon 
sub voce. 3 Lib. 1. 4 de Sublimitate. 



132 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


as Vossius de Idololatria observes, 1 it is expressly said, that he 
was born in Egypt, and soon after his birth, was put in an ark, and 
exposed to a river, which tradition was preserved among the Bras- 
iatce of Lciconica; and Bacchus, in Orpheus, is called M urns, and 
by Plutarch, de hide et Osiride, Palcestinus; and he is called 
which agrees to Moses, who besides his own mother, 
was adopted by Pharaoh’s daughter. Bacchus was likewise 
commended for his beauty, as Moses was, and was said to be 
educated in a mount of Arabia, called Nysa; which agrees with 
Moses’ residence in Arabia forty years. So Plutarch mentions 
(pvyag Alowcx^ the banishments of Bacchus; and Nonnus men¬ 
tions Bacchus’ flight into the Red Sea; 2 who likewise mentions 
his battles in Arabia, and with the neighbouring princes there. 
Diodorus 3 saith, that Bacchus’ army had not only men, but 
women in it; which is most true of the company which Moses 
led. Orpheus calls Bacchus ©sa-fxo^ov, and attributes to him 
A17rXajca ©zo-gov; whereby we understand Moses’ being a legisla¬ 
tor, and that he delivered the law in two tables. Moses’ fetching 
water out of a rock with a rod, is preserved in the orgia of Bac¬ 
chus; in which, Euripides relates, that Agave and the rest of 
the Bacchce, celebrating the orgia, one of them touched a rock, 
and the water came out; and in the same orgia, Euripides re¬ 
ports, how they were wont to crown their heads with serpents; 
probably in memory of the cure of the fiery serpents in the 
wilderness. A dog is made the companion of Bacchus, which 
is the signification of Caleb, who so faithfully adhered to Moses. 
To these, and some other circumstances insisted on by Vossius, 
Bochartus adds two more considerable ones, which are, that 
Nonnus reports of Bacchus, that he touched the two rivers, 
Arontes and Hydaspes with his Thyrsus or rod, and that the 
rivers dried, and he passed through them; and that his ivy-staff 
being thrown upon the ground, crept up and down like a ser¬ 
pent; and that the Indians were in darkness while the Bacclue 
enjoyed light: which circumstances considered, will make every 
one, that hath judgment, say as Bochartus 4 doth, *Exmirabili 


1 Lib. 1. cap. 30. 2 Dion. Lib. 20. 3 Lib. 4. 4 Canaan, Lib. 1. cap. 18 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


133 


iilo consensu vel coeds apparebit priscos fabularum architectos a 
scriptoribus sacris multa esse mutuatos.’ ” 1 

From the force of those arguments which have been adduced, 
and which cannot but be felt, if they be duly estimated, we 
think that we may venture the same conclusion which was drawn 
by a Jewish Rabbi. “ Habebant illi (Greed), scientiam rerum 
multarum , quce nihil aliud erat, proeterquam fax scientice filiorum 
Israel .” “ The Greeks had a knowledge of many things, which 

was nothing else but a torch of the knowledge of the Sons of 
Israel.” 2 “And this fsays the learned Casaubon), was the 
opinion of the best and most candid of the Greeks themselves; 
and this was the quarter in which the ancient writers, in advocat¬ 
ing our religion, defended the truth against the Gentiles, and so 
rebuked the pride and arrogance of those who were of a contrary 
opinion, ut cle eo dubitare nemo queat, that no one can enter¬ 
tain a doubt upon the subject.” 

2 . Should we, however, in carrying on the argument, either 
with the deist, or the advocate of natural religion, overlook all 
the evidence which may be adduced in support of the opinion, 
that the great doctrines, which are embodied in the Pagan sys¬ 
tems of theology and ethics, were derived from another and a 
higher Source than the unassisted reason of man; yet, still theism 
would have its difficulties. We should have to give a reason 
why the intellect, which seemed to be hovering about the thres¬ 
hold of some important doctrine, could not burst through the 
portals, and offer up its adoration to the goddess of truth;—we 
should have to give the reason, why the arm which appeared to 
be stretched forth into some “ fairy land of thought,” could not 
grasp the mysterious shadows that were flitting before it, and 
condense them into a palpable reality. The question would then 
be, why the philosopher, who had already furnished himself 
with such a stock of preliminary preparation, did not “ go forth 
conquering and to conquer?”—why, after having exhibited so 
much of his gigantic prowess, instead of completing the victory. 


i Stillingfleet’s Origines Sacrse. Vol. p. 156—7. 2 R. Shem. Tobh. 

Porta 3. cap. 4. 




134 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


be should sheathe his sword, and repose himself under the shade 
of the laurels which he had so dearly won, but failed to secure ? 
We have no doubt, that many fine insulated passages might be 
cited out of heathen authors; which might at first sight seem 
dignified enough to enter into competition with those which 
develop the doctrines and duties of an inspired Revelation. 
Collections and citations of this nature have been made and re¬ 
peated without end; but at the same time they have forgotten that 
those detached passages, however noble and generous the senti¬ 
ments may be which they breathe, are to be linked along 
with others of a different and sometimes a contrary tendency. 
Their doubts must be coupled with their positive affirmations— 
their hopes with their fears; and when we consider that the 
to, yMiorspa, Joyjxa twv were in many cases prompted either by 
random vanity, or an ardent longing after something great and 
immortal, we should at the same time consider, that whatever 
is added to the fervour of the sentiment, may detract from the 
strength of the assertion. This may lead us to the reflection, 
that the philosopher may have substituted his imagination in 
the place of argument, and his wishes in the stead of conviction. 
And this is no unsupported conjecture. Notwithstanding the 
noble sentiments which have been ransacked from tbe stores of 
Grecian and Roman eloquence, yet amidst all this profusion, the 
pyrrhonist could still find room for such sceptical and despond¬ 
ing passages as the following:— Omnes pene veteres; qui nihil 
cognosci, nihil percipi, nihil sciri posse dixerunt ; angustos sensus; 
imbecillos animos, brevia curricula vita; in prof undo veritatem 
demersam; opinionibus el instilutis omnia teneri; nihil veritati 

f 

relinqui; deinceps omnia tenebris circumfusa esse dixerunt” 1 
“Almost all the ancients have affirmed that nothing can be per¬ 
ceived, nothing can be known;—that our senses are narrow, and 
our minds weak;—that the term of our earthly existence is but 
short, and truth is sunk into the deep;—that all things are fet¬ 
tered and bound by opinions and established usages;—that no¬ 
thing is left for truth, and finally, all things are involved in 


1 Academ. Lib. 13. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


135 


darkness.” And though we might allow that the above picture 
is a little overcharged, and that the passage, like all others, 
which involve “a sweeping totality” of expression, must be 
modified in its meaning; yet, we think, that if the matter 
were to be carried into detail, the length and breadth of such an 
opinion, might be almost warranted as an induction. It is too 
well known how this contrariety of sentiment and vacillation of 
judgment, which distinguished the most celebrated philosophers, 
gave rise to scepticism, and a total disregard of all institutions, 
whether human or divine. It was then that the poet might 
have been justly apprehensive, 

“ Grave ne rediret 

Seculum Pyrrho, nova monstra questum.” 

The pyrrhonist, with an hardihood that bid defiance to com¬ 
mon sense, boldly asserted, that no proposition had more cer¬ 
tainty and evidence than any other proposition, or, in other 
words, that every thing was equally doubtful; while at the same 
time, others, who preferred a middle course, held that the pro 
and con of every question might be disputed with almost an equal 
strength of argument, and an equal certainty of success. And 
we cannot overlook the great injury which has been done to the 
cause of morality, 1 and which has flowed in upon it on every 
side, as well from the licentious mythology of the poet, as the 
scepticism of the pyrrhonist, and the settled opinions of the 
more sober philosophers; it being generally found, that absurd 
notions of the Deity—his attributes, and the duties which he 
requires of us, are as prejudicial to the purity of the heart, as to 
the soundness of the understanding. The noble and generous 
sentiments which occasionally breathe in the pages of the moral 
teachers of antiquity, have been cited, commented upon, and 
applauded again and again;—“yet, to what part of this vast 
tract of time (says a modern writer), are we to turn for a religion 


i Pyrrho, the founder of the sceptics, “held that there was nothing-either 
honourable or base, just or unjust, that there could be no discovery of truth, 
but that men did every thing by law or custom.”—D iog. Laert. in vita. 



136 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


that is to satisfy the cravings and the hopes of an immortal 
soul ? Where, amidst all these mighty journeyings of the sun, is 
that beau ideal—that fair phantom of an infidel imagination, 
which is to become a substitute for the Bible, and to render its 
sacred pages no longer of any use? Are we to carry up our 
researches to the gymnosophists of India—the hierophants of 
Egypt, or even the philosophers of Greece and Rome. Such 
researches have been made and repeated without end; but they 
have only served to discover, while in the maxims of their moral 
wisdom, the beauty of their poetry, and the profundity of their 
speculations, there is much that is excellent, and well worthy 
of being committed to memory, yet, in every thing that relates 
to a religion that can come home to the business and bosom of 
man, they are all and equally f vanity of vanities.*” 1 

We shall sum up the matter in the words of Dr. Samuel 
Clarke, who, though himself an advocate of natural religion, 
still allows, “ that notwithstanding the original fitness of men’s 
natural faculties and capacities to search after and apprehend 
God; yet, in fact, men, without the assistance of Revelation, did 
not attain to a right knowledge of him in any considerable degree. 
Of the philosophers themselves, who should have corrected the 
errors of the vulgar, some argued themselves out of the belief of 
the very being of God; some by ascribing all things to chance, 
others to absolute fatality, equally subverted all true religion, 
and made the doctrine of the resurrection of the dead, and of a 
future judgment, needless and impossible. * * * Some pro¬ 
fessed open immorality, and others, by subtle distinctions, pa¬ 
tronized particular vices, to which themselves were most addict¬ 
ed. The better sort of them, who were the most celebrated, and 
with the greatest reason, discoursed, yet, with much uncertainty 
and doubtfulness, concerning things of the highest importance— 
the providence of God in governing the world—the immortality 
of the soul, and a future judgment.” 2 


1 John Mason Good. 


2 Clarke’s Sermons. Vol. 2. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


137 


DISSERTATION VI. 

ON THOSE MENTAL ASSOCIATIONS WHICH PRECEDE AND 

FOLLOW DISCOVERIES. 

SECT. I. 

1. The difficulty of investigating the deductions of the human mind, 
in circumstances ivith which we have NO sympathy. 2. The 
difficulty which accompanies all our investigations, is too apt 
to prejudice the mind, which is already habituated to knowledge 
as it IS, against any attempts to improve it. 3. The influence 
of great names, in perpetuating error. 4. Every age is tinc¬ 
tured with a vanity peculiar to itself 

1. After the copious remarks which have been made in the 
preceding’ dissertations, it may appear almost superfluous to carry 
the subject any farther. We shall, however, beg leave to dwell a 
little longer upon those points which have only been just glanc¬ 
ed at, and which, if the solution be not altogether satisfactory, 
may at least give rise to a sober and a laudable curiosity. Not, 
however, because we think that what we have already said, and 
the evidence which has been already adduced, are not sufficient 
to lay the question asleep; yet we think that a few further ob¬ 
servations may be hazarded, though we are far from being tinc¬ 
tured with the opinion, that frequency of repetition, is additional 
evidence; or that the weight and cogency of arguments, are to 
be estimated by their number, or the positiveness of assertion 
with which they are introduced. 

There are cases, however, in which such a practice may be 
justifiable—in which it may be allowable to make use of fre¬ 
quent repetition and inculcation, “ line upon line, and precept 

Q 


4 


138 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


upon precept.” In the number of cases of this kind, seem to be 
included those, where the point of observation is surrounded 
with a little obscurity, or where the attention is likely to be ab¬ 
stracted from the ultimate object which the writer has in view, 
by the multiplicity, variety, or even the insulated and indepen¬ 
dent interest of the arguments which he adduces. Here we 
may grant the author a little more liberty in gathering up the 
scattered fragments of his discourse—in shewing their separate 
and combined tendency, and in concentrating our attention 
upon their force, and the legitimate conclusions to which they 
conduct us. This certainly we may allow, without at the same 
time imagining, that he is either apprehensive of our remissness 
of attention, or what is still more unpardonable, the deficiency 
and slowness of our comprehension. 

To this class our present subject very properly belongs. We 
are here required to wade through a mass of varying, and fre¬ 
quently contradictory evidence.—We are required to give, if not 
satisfactory, yet at least probable reasons, why there is such a 
variety in the evidence—why the same evidence sometimes in¬ 
dicates one conclusion, and at the same time directs us to ano¬ 
ther, that apparently is the reverse—and why the strength of the 
argument still remains unimpaired, while every concession which 
we make to our opponents, gives it additional stability; because 
it may be explained by other principles, which, though a little 
obscure, yet link themselves along with the general subject, and 
whose force is acknowledged as soon as they are distinctly stat¬ 
ed.—We are here required to enter into the arena, without any 
of the assistance which may be derived from artificial armour, 
either offensive or defensive, or from that pliability, energy, and 
** collectedness of effort,” which result from preliminary training, 
and the highly perfected discipline of the palaestra.—We are 
here required to strip ourselves of all adventitious learning—to 
abandon the syllogism of the schoolmen, and the demonstration 
of the mathematician.—We are required not merely to do this, 
but to throw ourselves back into such a state of impotence 
and imbecility, as must inevitably be the case, where the facul¬ 
ties have never been roused into any degree of intellectual 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


139 


excitement.— TV e are here required to investigate the concep¬ 
tions of those, whose chief pleasure and employment consist in 
the gratification of their sensual appetites; and the method of 
whose reasoning, whenever they are pleased to exercise it, must 
be confessedly different, or to say the least, inconceivably tedi¬ 
ous, through want of an acquaintance with those common prin¬ 
ciples, which are so universally diffused, that they have almost 
become hereditary. We have therefore to analyze ideas, which, 
like the irreducible elements of the chemists of every age, have 
been regarded as simple, till the fallacy was discovered by the 
succeeding one—which, with more accuracy, yet an equal pre¬ 
sumption of infallibility, enthroned others in their stead, which 
only awaited, from their successors, the fate of those who are 
guilty of the crime of usurpation. In other words, we have to 
pull down the whole fabric of human knowledge—to dissolve 
every connexion which subsists betwixt ideas, that have been 
associated by habit and instruction, to render the mind once 
more a tabula rasa, yet still retaining its original susceptibility— 
and to place ourselves in such a state of ignorance and inanity 
of thought, as we had never the misfortune to experience; and 
with the feelings and perceptions of those who have experienced 
it, we, from our superior knowledge, and easier methods of 
acquiring it, can consequently have no sympathy. To fix the 
attention properly upon such a subject as this, requires every 
effort that can possibly be made; and the more so, when every 
conclusion that can be drawn, however elaborate may be the 
process, is looked upon, not as a matter of reasoning, but as 
something that has been born with us, and makes us sensible of 
its existence, with the “ rapidity and energy of an instinct/" 

It was well observed by a certain philosopher, that, were the 
world to be peopled by a race of beings, who had only the exer¬ 
cise of one sense each, it would be very probable, that far from 
regarding the discoveries which might be communicated to each 
other, in the light of beneficial and accurate information, the 
order of their conceptions would be so limited and distinct, that 
they would appear to each other as mutually deceived, or wish¬ 
ing to deceive; or what probably would be still nearer the fact. 


140 


LITERARY PAN CRATI UM. 


as endeavouring- to convey ideas, which, notwithstanding their 
mutual efforts, could not be comprehended. One, who had 
gotten the advantage over his fellow-creatures, by being gifted 
with sight, and yet, notwithstanding this distinguished privi¬ 
lege, was inferior to them in another respect, on account of being 
destitute of the sense of feeling;—such a one might highly 
amuse them with talking about the alternate revolution of day 
and night;—he might tell them how the blue canopy, which 
covered them, was illuminated at regular intervals, by a splen¬ 
did luminary, “like a giant rejoicing to run his race.” Another, 
who had the sense of feeling, and yet, at the same time, was de¬ 
prived of the power of vision, would perceive, that at regular 
intervals, the temperature of the atmosphere was materially im¬ 
proved in point of warmth; though, at the same time, he would 
be ignorant what w as the cause of this regular and progressive 
alteration. Now, though we have here two individuals, who, 
unitedly, possess all the qualifications and data, requisite for the 
solution of the problem, yet to arrive at any certain conclusion, 
would be almost impossible. The person, who had the power 
of sight only, could never inform the other, that the atmosphere 
was subject to the influence of an incandescent body; because 
that would imply, that he had felt its heat, and experienced its 
genial influence. The other, who had experienced its influence, 
could never explain his meaning; because he would be talking 
about susceptibilities, to which the former had nothing similar, 
or even analogous. To discourse with a blind man about co¬ 
lours, and the possibility of representing living objects upon a 
plane surface, would be extremely preposterous; while, at the 
same time, those who were deaf, would be equally astonished 
to learn, that human beings were capable of communicating 
their ideas to each other, by the vibration of the tongue, and the 
pulsation of the air. 

Before the theory of vision was more accurately understood, 
who ever imagined, but that the act of seeing was a simple 
operation ?—who ever thought that it required a certain elemen¬ 
tary process of training, before a faculty, so noble and indis¬ 
pensable, could be exercised to any purpose? We ourselves 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


141 


had never an opportunity of reflecting upon the wonderful pro¬ 
cess, because the capacity of making proper use of the faculty, 
was fairly acquired at an age when we never thought of reasoning 
concerning the manner in which it was built up. How much 
useful information has been communicated upon this subject, 
by those who have been born blind, and have afterwards receiv¬ 
ed their sight by a surgical operation! As we are speaking upon 
the subject of vision, considering the great variety which exists 
amongst sublunary beings, with respect to the excellence of this 
faculty, from the “ mole’s dim curtain to the lynx’s beam,” we 
see nothing very hyperbolical in the supposition of a late philo¬ 
sopher, that there may be beings, to whom, on account of the 
perfection of this single sense, all the researches and elaborate 
experiments of physical science, maybe altogether superfluous! 
—beings, who may be able to perceive at one glance, the com¬ 
ponent parts of the atmosphere, without having recourse to the 
analytics of chemistry; and who are as intimately acquainted 
with the planetary system, and the astral revolutions, as the 
other orders of inferior beings are with the movements and 
machinery of a chronometer. 

2 . These observations will furnish us with a few reflections 
upon two prejudices, which are equally erroneous, though not 
equally injurious to the advancement of science. Experience 
shews us, that the methods by which w 7 e acquire knowledge, are 
far from being unaccompanied with difficulty,—that the processes 
by which we arrive at conviction, are very elaborate,—that they 
require much accuracy of investigation, and, in very many 
cases, an intensity of thought, which is peculiarly painful; not 
to mention, that with respect to physical science, its devotees 
are subject to the charge of a multiplicity of expensive experi¬ 
ments,—that many of their observations are to be placed under 
the control of a theory, whose operation, however central and 
extensive, is still liable to be interrupted by some rebellious 
phenomenon, upon which the philosopher never calculated, and 
which, at the first presentation of its hostile front, sets all his 
airy schemes at defiance, decomposes the integrality of his sys¬ 
tem into its original elements, and tells him, that he must seek 


142 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


out for some other master-principle of stronger attraction, which 
may bind up into one harmonious whole, the loose and scattered 
fragments of this “ rudis et indigesta chaos.” It then shews us, 
that the fabric of human knowledge, is not to be reared by the 
“ipse dixit” or the authoritative dogmas of any rabbi in phi¬ 
losophy,—that the word of man does not, like that of the divini¬ 
ty, “leap forth to its effectand that it requires something 
more than that share of infatuation, which generally falls to the 
lot of mortals, to imagine, that as soon as we have said, u Let 
there be light,” the sun will immediately “ spring up the blue 
serene” 1 “ regent of day,” and diff use light and heat throughout 
the whole intellectual horizon. 

Now, it is very easy for us to ascribe all this difficulty and 
mystery, to the intrinsic nature of the object itself;—it is very 
easy to imagine, that that darkness and obscurity, which is the 
interposed medium betwixt our faculties only, and the objects 
for the discovery of which they have been adapted, is a com¬ 
ponent part and incorporated element of the latter. It is true, 
that as far as we are concerned, there is a mystery, which, 
though merely relative, is yet real. But how r frequently do we 
make an undue transfer of it, from the percipient to the object!— 
How often does the son of wisdom, after he has made his tour 
through every region of knowledge, return home, like some rapid 

and short-sighted traveller, with a number of partial and half- 

* 

finished sketches! and, whatever defects or errors they may 
possess, he never thinks that they are to be charged upon his 
want of acuteness of perception and scientific skill, but that 
they are owing to the faint dimness of the objects, or the com¬ 
plexity of their combination. It is thus that all sciences must 
ever be moulded, modified, and limited, according to the clear¬ 
ness of our knowledge, and the extent of our discoveries. “ Om- 
nes perceptiones tarn sensus quam mentis sunt ex analogid hominis, 
non ex analogid universi: estque intellectus humanus instar speculi 
inazqualts, qui suam naturam natures rerum immiscet, eamque 
distorquet et injicit”' 2 - But how apt are we to imagine, that the 


1 Akensioe. 


2 Bacon’s Novum Organutn. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


143 


boundaries of our own capacities, or those of our contempora¬ 
ries, are the boundaries of science itself; and that we are pre¬ 
vented from pushing our investigations any farther, not merely 
through the weakness of our own powers, but the intrinsic nature 
of the subject itself;—that we cannot travel any farther, not 
merely because our own native strength, and the assistance 
which we have derived from artificial resources, are completely 
exhausted, but because' there is no terra incognita —no region, 
which we have not visited; and, therefore, we may sit down, 
like Alexander, and weep, that we have not another world to 
conquer. It is thus that we picture ourselves as swaying the 
sceptre over the universal empire of reason—as fancying that 
there is nothing which has escaped our eagle-glance,—no truth, 
at whose shrine we may “ bow the knee ” in adoration of its 
mysteriousness; neither is such a pleasing reverie to be dissi¬ 
pated, before we are a second time aroused by some enterprising 
genius, who has burst into some unknown and hyperborean 
region, on the confines of which we have been so frequently 
treading, and shews us new models of the regular, and even 
fantastical operations of nature. Then we feel, that, at what¬ 
ever link of the chain we may have arrived, it was not the last; 
and that it has been reached by some one, whose grasp was 
more vigorous, or industry more persevering. We then see, 
that if, according to the poetical phraseology of philosophy, 
truth be sunk in the deep, it is a depth which no human line 
has ever fathomed; and experience, if not grammar, will shew 
us, that even “ in the lowest deep,” there is still “ a lower.” 

Such a limitation of the human faculties, and the capacities 
of the understanding, however, is made by none but those, who 
are advanced to a certain degree of civilization, and begin to 
estimate their power and their weakness. The savage (it is an 
observation of the elegant Goldsmith ), the savage has no idea of 
the extent of his mental faculties. Human nature is to him an 
unknown country. He feels himself to be one of the many, 
and to live in a land where great things are doing. The splen¬ 
dour, which gathers itself round the brows of the aggregate 
mass of his fellow-creatures, he feels reflected upon himself, 


144 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


and he is content to lose his individual importance, provided he 
is repaid with some vague idea of the undefined amplitude and 
grandeur of those powers, which have achieved triumphs so 
noble; because he feels, at the same time, that he himself is 
gifted with the essential rudiments of those faculties, and what¬ 
ever, therefore, rises above his own capacity, he accepts as a 
tributary offering to that nature which he himself participates. 

We would almost say, that it would be well, even if the scho¬ 
lar would carry along with him these splendid ideas of the 
extent of the human faculties, if properly directed, and pushed 
to the extreme verge of their capabilities. Such chivalrous 
notions as these, would often lead him to embark his talents 
and his energies in enterprises, which he dares not undertake, 
merely because they have not been undertaken before. “ If in 
the physical science, the march of Descartes be less sure than 
that of Galileo,— if his logic be less cautious than that of 
Bacon, yet the very te3Ierity of his errors, was instrumental 
to the progress of the human race. He gave activity to minds, 
which the circumspection of his rivals could not awaken from 
their lethargy. He called upon men to throw off the yoke of 
authority, acknowledging no influence, but what reason should 
avow; and his call was obeyed by a multitude of followers, 
encouraged by the boldness, and fascinated by the enthusiasm 
of their leader.” 1 It is nevertheless true, that our ideas of the 
capacity of our mental powers, are advanced by every discovery 
which we make; but we must rise to a certain degree of intel¬ 
lectual excitement, from some novel phenomenon, or some new 
phasis, which it has exhibited, before we ever begin to think 
that the mine of nature and art, is still unexhausted. How 
often do we form our judgment from our own abilities, and at¬ 
tribute the difficulties, which are more justly chargeable upon 
our own indolence or incapacity, to the natural impossibility of 
the operation itself, or the supposed arduousness of the efforts 
which it requires !—“ How often (says Seneca) do we think 
every thing, which we cannot do ourselves, incapable of being 


i CONDORCET. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


145 


done at all.”—How often do we picture to ourselves some gigan¬ 
tic beings, standing at the outskirts of every region where human 
reason has erected her trophies, arid planted her standard, which 
after a nearer approach, and a more accurate observation, dwin¬ 
dle dow n to the size of ordinary beings, whose stature had been 
exaggerated by our fears of the contest, and the darkness which 
surrounded them. The “leap at Rhodes,” is not so often ques¬ 
tioned, on account of any suspicion of the veracity of the per¬ 
former, and the testimony of the witnesses. We have a more 
compendious method than this, and we deny it, because we see 
that it is incompatible with the ideas which we have of our own 
capacity, and the capacity of those with whom we casually 
come in contact. We allow that praise which is bestowed upon 
actions, (says Pericles, in one of his funeral orations, recorded 
by Thucydides), as long as we think ourselves capable of doing 
them; but as soon as they exceed our own powers, at the same 
moment they exceed our belief. “Man’s pride (says Sir Wil¬ 
liam Temple) is greater than his ignorance, and what he wants 
in knowledge, he supplies by sufficiency. When he has looked 
about him as far as he can, he concludes there is no more to be 
seen;—when he is at the end of his line, he is at the bottom of 
the ocean;—when he has shot his best, he is sure none ever 
did, or ever can shoot beyond it. His own reason he holds to 
be the certain measure of truth, and his capacity of what is pos¬ 
sible in nature.” 

3 . In this manner the genius of whole ages has been kept 
down by an appeal to some great authority, beyond whose 
opinions and decisions, it has been almost heresy to venture. 
Witness the reverence which has been paid to Aristotle, con¬ 
cerning whom, Balaius tells us, that the Colonienses Tlieologos 
ranked him amongst the gods, and published a work, entitled 
“De Salute Arisiotelis” and another on the “Life and Death of 
Aristotle ;” at the end of which they conclude, that Aristotle 
was the forerunner of Christ, in naturalibus, ‘in things natural,’ 
as John the Baptist was gratuitis, ‘in things of grace.’ And 
we are told, that in “some churches, his ethics were read 
instead of sermons, a practice, which in some places had existed 

R 


140 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


from the time of Charlemagne;” 1 and Thomas Aquinas 
himself, who in the opinion of Erasmus, was inferior to none 
of the recentium theologorum, in diligence, the soundness of his 
understanding, and the profundity of his erudition, 2 was never 
satisfied until the doctrines of Scripture could be supported by 
the authority of Aristotle. “ Amongst philosophers (says the 
learned Grotius), Aristotle holds deservedly the first rank, 
whether we regard his method of treating the subject, his acute¬ 
ness in distinguishing, or the weight of his arguments. I wish 
only that his authority had not now for a series of ages degene¬ 
rated into tyranny, so that truth, for the discovery and advance¬ 
ment of which, he did his utmost, nulla jam re magis opprimatur 
quam Aristotelis nomine ,” is now oppressed by nothing more than 
the name of Aristotle. 3 “There are (says Ludovicus Vives) 
both philosophers and divines, who say, not only, that Aristo¬ 
tle reached the utmost boundaries of science, but that his syl¬ 
logistic method of reasoning is the most direct and certain path 
to knowledge—a presumption, which has led us to receive, 
upon the authority of Aristotle, many tenets, as fully known 
and established, which are by no means such; for why should 
we fatigue ourselves with further inquiry, when it is agreed that 
nothing can be discovered beyond what may be found in his 
writings ? Hence has sprung up in the minds of men, an incre¬ 
dible degree of indolence; so that every one thinks it safest and 
most pleasing to see with another’s eyes, and believe with ano¬ 
ther’s faith, and to examine nothing for himself.” 4 

It is true, however, that these things took place in an age un¬ 
favourable to literature and philosophy; when the minds of men 
were fettered down by the authority of papal dogmas, and when 
every attempt that was made for the advancement of either 
physical or intellectual science, was looked upon as incompatible 
with the nature of truth, or the safety of the church. This, how¬ 
ever, has not been a misfortune exclusively belonging to the 


1 Townley’s Illustrations of Biblical Literature. Vol. 2. p. 256. 

2 Comment, in Epist. ad Rom. cap. I. 

3 Praefat. ad. lib. de jure belli et pacis. 4 De Trad. Dis. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


147 


darker, or wluit they are generally called, the middle ages. 
Since the invention of printing, and the consequent revival of 
letters, as well as the rejection of infallibility as an attribute of 
human nature, individuals might be pointed out in almost every 
department of theology and philosophy, concerning whom, it 
would be almost difficult to say whether the truths which they 
have discovered, have done more to promote the advancement 
of knowledge, or the errors which they have bound up along 
with them, have done to retard it. The errors of great men, 
like their vices, are doubly hurtful, because they are the errors 
of the great and the wise; though the “malim delirare potius cum 

- quam sapere cum -,” taken generally, has too much of 

the tinsel of arrogance about it, to be exalted into a rational 
axiom, however much influence it may have in moulding our 
opinions. Part of this is owing to our own incapacity of judging 
for ourselves;—much of it is to be attributed to our own indo¬ 
lence, and most of all to the reverence which we pay to every 
thing that is sanctioned by great names, and bears upon it the 
stamp of antiquity. To the writer who has poured a flood of 
demonstration and conviction over the ninety and ninth ques¬ 
tion, how difficult it is for us to refuse our assent, when he dis¬ 
cusses the one-hundredth, and especially if his learning and 
fame have placed him above the reach of common observation 
and inferior critics. It is far easier to swim with the tide of 
popular approbation, and to “echo the million,” than to stand 
forth as a solitary unit and advocate of an opinion that is novel, 
whatever may be the degree of evidence with which it is attended, 
or of one that has become unfashionable through its unwelcome 
aspect, and the general corruption of popular sentiment.—It is 
far easier to march over the territory that has been already 
acquired,—enumerate the victories that have been already won, 
and after vainly endeavouring to comprehend the “vast idea 
big,” it is certainly far easier to dispute the potentiality of any 
further conquests altogether, than to push them, 

* * * “ Super Garamantas et Indos.” 

% 

Surely it is less difficult to “ fall heirs to our opinions, and to 




148 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


defend them, as people do their estates, by right of inheritance/’ 
than to institute an inquiry, examine their character, and, ac¬ 
cording as that inquiry and examination may direct us, to reject 
and adopt with an honest, yet fearless, discrimination. 

4 . Yet, still every age, whatever it may concede to the pre¬ 
ceding ones, has something upon which it may plume itself. If 
our ancestors had the luck, “ merely because they lived before us,” 
to discover a number of important truths, yet we flatter ourselves, 
that it was for us that Providence has reserved a proper appre¬ 
hension and application of them;—if they have furnished us 
with the rudiments and elements of knowledge, yet we have all 
the praise and honour that is due to induction and system;—if 
they have laid the basis, yet we have raised the superstructure, 
not to mention the glorious models after which we have built it. 
We may probably allow, that with respect to our physical 
strength and constitution, we have considerably degenerated, 
and that the “ heroes of old” are almost exalted into an order 
of superior beings, when compared with the enervated 

O iOi WV fyoroi EKTiV 1 * * * 

We may allow, too, that the morals of later times have been 
greatly deteriorated,—that the manners of the golden age have 
been long since forgotten,—that the tinsel of modern refinement 
and civilization is but a poor substitute for the sterling bullion 
of primeval simplicity,—that we ourselves are “ nequiores, ” and 
in all probability may hand down in succession " progeniem vi- 
tiosiorem ,” 2 an offspring still more degenerate. We may further 
allow that there have been great men in all ages, and we may 
utter many a polished sentence about the “ giants of old,” 3 
much upon the same principle as those people who, according 
to the observation of Swift, are fond of enlarging upon the 


i Hom. II. 2 Hor. Od. 

3 “ The similitude (says Lunovicus Vives, quoted by Stewart) which 
many have fancied between the superiority of the moderns to the ancients, 
and the elevation of a dwarf on the back of a giant, is altogether false and 
puerile. Neither were they giants, nor are we dwarfs, but all of us men of 
the same standard.”—De Causis Corrupt. Artium. Lib. 1. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


149 


names, titles, ancl characters of the nobility, in order to shew 
that they have been thought worthy of enjoying their intimacy 
and friendship. But when we have made these concessions, we 
can go no farther. We have now to dispose of all the discoveries 
and improvements which have been brought to light in these 
latter ages; and what has, in a great measure, been owing to 
accident—the combined efforts of individuals and rival compe¬ 
titors, or the gradual, and if we may make use of the term, the 
natural development of science from its original elements;—of 
all this we shall lose the honour, and the praise must at once 
be laid upon the circumstances with which we have been sur¬ 
rounded, and over which we have had no control, except w e can 
shew that it is to be ascribed to a superior intellect, and one that 
has gathered strength during the “ flow of generations.” 1 2 And 
can we for a moment reflect how some of these sages, who are 
sometimes brought into competition with us, gravely concluded 
that the torrid zone was uninhabited and uninhabitable, on ac¬ 
count of its heat,—that the pillars of Hercules were the boun¬ 
daries of the world on the one side, as was Colchis on the 
other, and that the sun every night cooled himself by taking a 
joyous plunge into the ocean, without being convinced of our 
superiority?—Can we reflect how some of the theological doc¬ 
tors of the middle ages sapiently determined, that if the earth 
did really “ spin upon its axle,” and was not, according to the 
figurative language of Scripture, “ supported by pillars,” the 
authority of revelation must be set aside, and consequently 
Galileo 2 must recant, or be treated as an heretic?—Can we 
for a moment consider the learned and laborious trifling which 
occupied the attention of those ages,—the disputes which they 
raised concerning “ quiddities and formalities,” without perceiv¬ 
ing that the proofs are still “ thickening, which before demon¬ 
strated rather thinly ?”—Can we for a moment draw ourselves 
into a comparison with those “ portcntosi artifices, ac litigio- 
rum patriarchs qui imposturarum labyrinthos ingenio Deededino 


1 Uorocpog ysvscrsuig. Plutarch. 

2 His recantation may be seen verbatim in the Protestant’s Protest, p. 129, 




150 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


cxcofjitaverunt contendendi formulas novas verbis intricat is 
subtiliter adinvenerunt , et monstrifica conflictationum vocabula 
formaverunt, de suppositionibus, obligatoriis, insolubilibus, h recce i- 
tatibus, formalitatibus, modis intrinsecis, atque aliis sophista- 
rum chimeris” 1 We may occasionally employ ourselves in 
enumerating the population of our globe, inquiring into the 
temperature of its several climates, and undertake voyages and 
travels, for the sake of fixing their geographical boundaries with 
a greater degree of accuracy and precision; but we never think 
of mounting above this sublunary world, scaling the battlements 
of heaven, in order to number the angelic hierarchy, marshal 
them into their different orders and principalities, and furnish 
ourselves with every thing necessary for the perfection of the 
science of angelography. Yet this has been attempted, and 
man has forgotten that he has been speculating upon subjects, 
for the determination of which, no data are afforded either by 
nature or revelation. We may now busy ourselves in investi¬ 
gating the laws which regulate the science of optics, and the 
motion of bodies; but then we never think of inquiring whether 
it is possible for angels to see visually in the dark, or whether 
they can convey themselves from one point of space to another, 
without passing through the intermediate points. We may 
inquire into the nature of the things which surround us, their 
physical properties, and the various uses to which these proper¬ 
ties are subordinate; but we can probably find sufficient em¬ 
ployment in this, without racking our brains to discover the 
nature of nonentity, and the properties which are inherent in it 
considered as such. The nature of virtue may also occupy as 
much of our attention as it did that of our predecessors. We 
may wish to know what is that which really constitutes it,—the 
laws by which it is regulated,—the line which separates its 


1 BaLjEUS de Script. Britann. 

“ Et tamen hi doctores Angelici, Cherubici, Serapliici, non modo universam 
philosophiam ac theologiam erroribus inquinarunt; verura etiam in philo- 
sophiam moralem invexere sacerrima ista principia probabilismi, methodi 
dirigendi intentionem, reservationis mentalis, peccati philosophici, quibus 
jesuitae etiamnum mirifice delectantur.”— Heinecc. Elem.Hist. Phil. c. 101. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


151 


various modifications from the proximate vices, 1 as well as that 
degree of control over our passions and external objects, which 
is the most salutary for its preservation. Such inquiries as these 
are highly reasonable, and possess such paramount importance, 
that they will leave us no room for disputing with half a dozen 
schoolmen, whether virtue is good because it hath goodness, or 
with half a dozen more, whether it hath goodness because it is 
good. 2 

It is thus that every age claims supremacy and infallibility to 
itself. She has found that her predecessors have been mistaken, 
and that the systems of their most admired philosophers, can 
scarcely inspire one single scholar with a sufficient degree either 
of courage or enthusiasm, to stand forward as their advocate. 
Uninstructed by the errors of the preceding, and the implicit 
faith that it reposed in its own opinions, which seemed almost 
to exclude the very possibility of mistake:—notwithstanding 
this, every age still fancies itself to be successful, and that 
she alone has thrown out the “line,” and “meted truth with 
a span.” If the world (says a French writer) exist for thirty 
thousand years, philosophers will be still talking about the igno¬ 
rance of their forefathers, and that the world is but just begin¬ 
ning to awake from its slumber. 3 In this respect the learned 
seem to share the prejudices of the vulgar, who, as a Latin 
writer somewhere observes, always speak about the last wars as 
being the bloodiest, 

“ Which the history mentions.” 


* * * i “ Sunt certi denique fines, 

Quos ultra citraque nequit consistere rectum.”— Horace. 

2 See Brown’s Philosophy of the Human Mind. Introd. Lect. 

3 “ Veniet tempus, quo ista quae latent nunc in lucem dies extrahet, et 
longioris aevi diligentia. Veniet tempus, quo posteri nostri tarn aperta nos 
ignorasse mirabuntur.”— Seneca. Quaest. Nat. lib. 7. c. 25. 





J52 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


ON THOSE MENTAL ASSOCIATIONS WHICH PRECEDE AND 

FOLLOW DISCOVERIES. 

SECT. II. 

1. The vividness of any temporary emotion indicates a propor¬ 
tionate suspension of the reasoning faculties, and vice versa, 
the predominance of the reasoning faculties indicates a corres¬ 
ponding decline of the emotion. 2. This axiom is applicable 
to knowledge. 3. The faculty of knowing every thing by intu¬ 
ition, would perhaps not be compatible with our happiness in 
the present state. 4. When we are once enlightened upon a 
subject, it is almost impossible for us to call up those ideas and 
emotions which preceded the state of mind to which we allude. 
5. Discoveries that appear trivial, are often attended with the 
most important results. 

1. The other prejudice to which we alluded in a preceding 
page, though not quite so hostile to the advancement of science, 
is yet equally as preposterous, inasmuch as it indicates a false 
estimate of the powers of the human mind. The apathy and 
indifference with which we look upon the discoveries which we 
have already made, and which we consider merely as helps to 
our further investigations, and consequently divested of intrinsic 
and independent interest,—that apathy and indifference is cer¬ 
tainly ample vengeance for that unbounded and undefined am¬ 
plitude of grandeur with which we invested them, before they 
were dug out of their native quarry, or underwent a minute 
analysis. It is like entering some great Egyptian temple. The 
contempt with which we regard the intellect that can bow itself 
in adoration before one of the “beasts that perish,” is certainly 
commensurate with the reverence which we pay to the genius 


LIT E It A It Y P A NC RATI UM. 


153 


ami skill of him who reared the building, with all its massive 

v o y 

pillars and decorations, 

“To meet their gods half-way.” 

It is true, that we cannot alter the nature of knowledge. It 
still retains its own character of dignity and excellence, what¬ 
ever be the light in which it presents itself to our views and 
conceptions. Yet this is the only way in which we can view it. 
Tt is in vain for us to talk about the internal nature of things, 
as something, which from the limited nature of our faculties, 
never comes within the range of our comprehension. The 
adaptation betwixt our own mental faculties, and the objects 
which come under their cognizance, is an arrangement which 
has been made by infinite wisdom; and to found a system of 
philosophy upon any thing else than the natural way in which 
the several component parts of our physical and intellectual 
frame mutually correcting and assisting each other, are affected 
by surrounding objects, would be to found them upon some¬ 
thing, which, it is enough to say, has not nature for its basis. 
Such systems may surprise us by their novelty and paradoxical 
nature, but their charms will forsake them, as soon as we have 
stripped them of those which are artificial. If any tribute of 
praise be due to them, it will be due to that “perverseness of 
ingenuity by which they were discovered,” and our commisera¬ 
tion may find an object sufficiently worthy in intellect, toiling 
after absurdity, and the high powers of reason convincing the 
world with how little gratitude they are received by their pos¬ 
sessors. 

It is enough for us to know that such is our constitution, and 
the order of feelings and conceptions, as they succeed each 
other. Certain objects draw forth our attention, and in propor¬ 
tion to their novelty and strangeness of character, concentrate 
it upon themselves with a greater or less degree of intensity. 
The nature of the objects determines the number and character 
of the external senses and mental powers, which are to be em¬ 
ployed in the inquiry. If the objects be extremely novel, or 
unusually interesting, the emotion which results from the first 

s 


154 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


sensation, is astonishment;—if the objects be sublime and beau¬ 
tiful, they give rise to admiration;—if of a terrible or unpleasant 
nature, the emotion which they excite, is of a corresponding 
character. The first, emotion, whatever its nature may be, for 
we see that it varies with the nature of the object, as it appears 
in its relative position to us,—this first emotion necessarily im¬ 
plies such a distraction and dissipation of thought, and in many 
cases, such a shattering of our whole system, both corporeal and 
mental, as totally excludes the very possibility of reflection; and 
in extreme cases, works the mind up to such a degree of excite¬ 
ment, as to throw us upon the verge of insanity. As long as this 
first emotion continues in the full intensity of its vigour, the 
consequence is inevitable—the reasoning faculties must be kept 
down —there can be no condensation and concentration of 
thought—no gathering together of our scattered ideas—no in¬ 
quiry into their specific nature—no classification resulting from 
the comparison of things similar or analogous; and consequent¬ 
ly nothing upon which we can form either argument or conclu¬ 
sion. A sudden and unexpected flash of lightning, if it has any 
influence at all over our senses and nervous system, leaves us 
no room, for the time being, to speculate upon the analogous 
phenomena of electricity, the distance of the cloud which is 
charged with it, and the specific substance of those bodies which 
have or have not the capacity of conducting it. 

“ The sudden roar of the hostile gun, 

Which tells that a field ere night must be won,” i 

Leaves us no room, for the time being, to reflect upon the 
nature and composition of the powder, its ignition and defla¬ 
gration, the expansive force of the enclosed air struggling for 
liberty, the consequent vibration of the surrounding atmosphere, 
the effect which that vibration produces upon the tympanum or 
drum of the ear, and the changes which successively take place 
in the external apparatus, till it reaches the common sensorium , 
where our inquiries terminate, because we are upon the line 


i Mrs. Hemans. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


155 


which separates the material world from the spiritual. When, 
however, the force of the first overpowering - sensation begins to 
decay, then the reasoning faculties begin to exert their influence, 
and their strength rises in proportion to the declining weakness 
of the first impression, inasmuch as we must first cease to won¬ 
der , before we begin to reflect; and the more so, because however 
much the latter may come under the dominion of our own will, 
yet the former lies altogether without the pale of our jurisdic¬ 
tion. 

“It is the nature (says Sir James Mackintosh) of an emotion 
to withdraw the mind from the contemplation of every idea 
but that of the object which excites it. Every desire exclusively 
looks at the objects which it seeks. Every attempt to enlarge 
the mental vision alters the state of the mind, weakens the 
emotion, or dissipates the desire, and tends to extinguish both. 
If a man, while he was pleased with the smell of a rose, were to 
reflect on the chemical combinations from which it arose, the 
condition of his mind would be changed from an enjoyment 
of the senses to an exertion of the understanding. If in the 
view of a beautiful scene, a man were suddenly to turn his 
thoughts to the disposition of water, vegetables, and earths, on 
which its appearances depended, he might enlarge his know¬ 
ledge of geology, but he must lose the pleasure of the prospect. 
The anatomy and analysis of the flesh and blood of a beautiful 
woman, necessarily suspend admiration and affection/” 1 

After the first sensation, then the mind, which appeared at 
first sight to be broken down by a sense of its own littleness, 
and the greatness of the objects which are presented to its no¬ 
tice, begins to resume its ancient authority, and the attribute of 
reflection of which it has been dispossessed for the moment. 
The complicated machinery of the object which has produced 
effects so wonderful, must be taken to pieces, and there must be 
a regular examination of the component parts in their primary 
and elementary state, as well as their system of combination, 
and the modus operandi, their method of operation, when we 


i Preliminary Dissertations to the Encyclopaedia Britannica. p. 414. 



I o(> 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


consider them as a complete whole. It is by this means, that 
we are led to the knowledge of causes, though, in many cases, 
through the imperfection of our senses and the weakness of our 
reason, we are obliged to sit down with those, which, though the 
most obvious, yet are of a secondary character; and it is owing to 
the experimental philosophy, and the inductive logic of modern 
times, that, in respect of science, we rise so much superior to 
our predecessors, and have arrived, in many cases, if not at the 
real , yet probably, at the most proximate causes, which physical 
science may admit of in our present state of existence. This, 
however, as we have stated above, though the current opinion of 
every age, has been shewn by experience, to be of too uncertain 
a nature to demand from us any implicit credit; and it seems 
very agreeable to the goodness of Divine Providence, and quite 
analogous to his other dispensations, that, since the principle of 
curiosity is implanted in man, the treasures of nature should 
be inexhaustible, and there should be always something to re¬ 
ward the inquiries of the philosopher. 

But to return. From what has been already said concerning 
the constitution of the human mind, and the manner in which 
it is affected by external objects, it will be evident, that if the 
object or series of objects, which have entered into our foregoing 
supposition, should again be presented to the corporeal senses— 
it is evident, that though the object and the agent be still the 
same, yet they will be far from producing the same or even 
similar effects. The spell of the magician has now been broken, 
and we are placed far without the circle of his enchantments. 
As long as the tricks of the juggler compelled us, if we may use 
a strong expression, to have recourse to supernatural influence, 
or, at least, to an adroitness almost above superhuman, before we 
could give a satisfactory solution of his wonderful exhibitions, 
such a one might command admiration; but as soon as we have 
once burst through the portals, and revealed the u intima arcana,” 
the mysteries of his art, “the enchanter and the enchantments 
alike are fled.” 

“The awful stillness of attention (says Dr. Johnson) with 
which the mind is overspread, at the first view of an unexpected 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


157 


effect, ceases when we have leisure to disentangle complications, 
and to investigate causes. Wonder is a pause of reason, a sud¬ 
den cessation of the mental progress, which lasts only while 
the understanding is fixed upon some single idea, and is at an 
end when it discovers force enough to divide the object into its 
parts, or mark the intermediate gradations from the first agent 
to the last consequence.” 

In this case, it is in vain to expect a recurrence of similar emo¬ 
tions. The object has excited curiosity, and that curiosity has 
been gratified. We have been inquisitive after the causes of ef¬ 
fects so wonderful, and those inquiries have not been disappoint¬ 
ed. It may occur again, but its occurrence will excite no emo¬ 
tion. It is thus that “consuetudo innaturam,” 1 custom passes into 
nature. Those objects with which we have been the most familiar, 
and which would, at the first sight, excite feelings the most noble 
and sublime, have lost their influence along with their novelty. 
“As the eyes of the owl (says Aristotle) are indifferent to the 
light of the SUn, SO is our mind 7Tp og to. Tip tyvcrzi QuvspuTOCTOc tocvtwv, 
to those things which are by nature the most evident of all .” 2 
The mid-day effulgence of a summer’s sun gives birth to no 
wonder, because we can arrive at no retrospective period of our 
own brief history, in which we have not experienced it; but 
how highly are we gratified, when we see the solar rays, which 
we had hitherto regarded as a simple substance, dissected by a 
prism into every variety of colour which gives a tinge to the 
rainbow that arches the horizon. The steady revolution ol day 
and night, the regular return of the seasons, the vernal zephyr 
and the golden harvest, affect us with no sensations of either 
delight or interest; but when we can consider the phenomena in 
a situation that excludes us from the very possibility of danger, 
how is the curiosity of our nature excited by the casual rocking 
of an earthquake, or the thunder of a volcano. W e can survey 
the whole scenery of nature that surrounds us, the wide-spread 
valley covered with its mantle of verdure, and the “everlasting 
hills” rearing their cloud-capp’d pinnacles into a region of 


1 Quint. 


* Aristotle Metaph. 





158 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


eternal snow;—we can behold some mighty river like the Nilus 
or the Ganges, “rolling its bright waves through continents of 
sand and empires black with shade ,” 1 and then losing itself in 
some immense ocean, “whose shores are empires;” 2 —we can 
send our imagination and our senses upon an excursion to view 
heaven’s canopy studded with "living sapphires ,” 3 till we lose 
ourselves and our powers of calculation in the infinity of space; 
yet we can retire from such a scene of contemplation without 
feeling one single emotion of gratitude or reverence, or the 
least spark of philosophic curiosity; and that merely because 
they are objects which we have always seen, and arrangements, 
the value of which, we cannot appreciate, because we were never 
in such a state as precluded us from experiencing their benefits! 

“With brute unconscious gaze, 

Man marks not thee—marks not the mighty Hand, 

That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres, 

Works in the secret deep, shoots steaming thence 
The fair profusion that o’erspreads the spring. 

Flings from the sun direct, the flaming day, 

Feeds every creature, hurls the tempest forth; 

And as on earth this grateful change revolves, 

With transport touches all the springs of life.” 4 

Hence, in order to give an impulse to our dormant facul¬ 
ties, we are obliged to descend into the "analytics” of phi¬ 
losophy, and the laboratory of the chemist; and our torpid 
powers, which could withstand every other effort, must be 
brought again into action, by viewing the original energies of 
nature in a state of elemental decomposition, or combinations 
totally novel. “Man (says Rollin) lives in the midst of a 
world of which he is the sovereign,—as a stranger, who looks 
with indifference upon all that passes in it, and as if it were not 
his concern. The universe, in all its parts, declares and points 
out its Author; but for the most part, to the deaf and blind, 
who have neither ears to hear nor eyes to see. One of the 
greatest services that philosophy can do us is, to awaken us 
from this drowsiness, and rouse us from this lethargy, which is 


i Akenside. 1 Byron. 3 Milton. * Thompson’s Seasons. _ Hymn. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


159 


a dishonour to humanity, and in a manner, reduces us below 
the beasts, whose stupidity is the consequence of their nature, 
and not the effect of neglect or indifference. It awakens our 
curiosity and excites our attention, and leads us, as it were, by 
the hand, through all the parts of nature, to induce us to study 
and search out the wonderful works of it.” 1 

2. The preceding observations may be applied to every object 
of science, and every department of knowledge. As long as our 
ideas are indefinite,—as long as we have not obtained any sure 
footing upon which to ground our speculations, or as long as 
the subject is hidden from our view, and appears to be lost in 
the twilight of obscurity and darkness, whatever it may lose in 
point of tangibility, it certainly rises in the same proportion in 
in the scale of our estimation. The aphorism of the Roman 
historian, “ignotum pro magnijico” is as true with respect to any 
subject of intellectual inquiry, as it is with regard to politics; 
because it is grounded upon the same principles of our mental 
constitution, whose natural susceptibility still remains the same, 
whatever may be the objects with which it may happen to come 
into contact. When any remarkable discovery is made in phy¬ 
sical science, “the philosophers of all Europe fsays a modern 
writer) are thrown into a ferment, though the accession of infor¬ 
mation may be so trivial as only to form a thousandth part of 
that department of knowledge to which it may belong.” With 
what a degree of excitement and interest do we con over some 
pons asinorum that has thrown itself across our path, in the 
reading of some ancient author—some passage, which, from its 
antiquity and obscurity, has been impregnable since the days of 
Eustathius or Asconius, to every effort of criticism, and to 
every weapon which could be brought forward from the armoury 
of hermeneutics, though it should be wielded with the prowess 
of a Bentley, or a Salmasius. Such is the waywardness of our 
nature, that we prefer the shadow before the substance, to make 
irruptions into the regions that are tenanted by the unknown 
and the incomprehensible, than to turn to proper advantage, the 


i Belles Lettres. Vol. 4. 




160 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


territory which we have already acquired. Xylander, in his 
life of Plutarch, ingeniously observes, that amongst the wits 
of his time, there were far more who lamented the loss of the 
one hundred and seven books of Livy, than read the remaining 
thirty-five. 

True it is, that the conceptions which are excited by objects 
at a distance, are certainly no diminution to their relative gran¬ 
deur. That which is situated beyond the ken of our intellectual 
vision, cannot be deprived of any of that dignity, which is so 
much a loser by a more intimate acquaintance. The imagina¬ 
tion has then ample room and verge enough for her operations.— 
She has then opportunity sufficient to throw over the whole 
scenery the beauty of her colouring, and the magic of her 
enchantment. It is during this vacuity of thought, that she 
reigns in undisturbed possession; and the tribute of admiration 
must be paid, till that beauty be scrutinized, and the spell of 
the enchanter be broken. 

We have seen that it is a natural law of our mental constitu¬ 
tion, that every emotion is the strongest whilst alone, and that 
it decreases in vividness, in proportion to the increasing force of 
those that may happen to co-exist along with it. The fabric, 
however visionary, must be in the zenith of its strength and 
loveliness, before it has undergone an impartial examination, 
and before it has been broken down, or the philosopher has 
made his way into the citadel by the subtleties of logic, or the 
labour of induction. 

Knowledge, if we may be allowed to make use of the compa¬ 
rison, appears to us, whilst it is inaccessible, to exert much the 
same influence, as sublimity does in the effusions of the poet, 
or the glowing periods of the orator. “Sublimity (says Dr. 
Johnson) is produced by aggregation, and littleness by disper¬ 
sion. Great thoughts are always general, and consist in posi¬ 
tions not limited by exceptions, and in descriptions not extend¬ 
ing to minuteness,” 1 When the poet tells us, that there may 
be worlds at such a distance, that our globe may not as yet 


i Johnson’s Life of Cowley. 






LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


161 

have been visited by the light which has issued from them, and 
which “has been travelling the blue profound for the last six 
thousand years;” 1 such a thought and such an expression inspire 
us with far loftier ideas, than those which would be raised by a 
philosopher, who should compute for us the exact distance, and 
shew us the physical and mathematical grounds upon which 
such a computation depends for its accuracy. “To call the 
mind of an audience (says a modern writer), by a single sen¬ 
tence, to the ample sweep of the cope of heaven, and its furni¬ 
ture of stars, as popularly conceived, conveys an impression 
more sublime, than would be produced by an enumeration of 
the distance of the stars in millions of miles, and an account of 
the laws of the astral revolutions, which would occupy an hour. 
To direct the thoughts to the sea, rolling in grandeur, would 
seize the imagination;—to calculate the momentum of its billows 
and the leagues of its surface, would dissipate the charm, by 
calling another faculty into exercise.” The metaphysical poet, 
who is never satisfied until he has shewn us the “membra disjecta ” 
of every image, and dissolved them into their original atoms, 
does the same injury to sublimity, by pursuing his figures 
through every ramification, as the philosopher does to our ad¬ 
miration, by going into detail , and leading us through the laby¬ 
rinths of science. 

We might still have fancied that the structure was the work 
of an intellect that was superhuman, had we not been shewn 
the method in which it was reared, and the nature of the materials 
that compose it. The sublimity of our conceptions has, in both 
cases, been chastened down by a scrutiny too severe, and an 
acquaintance too familiar. The “ sun-gilt landscape,” which 
appears to us whilst in prospect, as a spot replete with loveli¬ 
ness and beauty. 

Like an heart-cherish’d home on some desolate plain; 

Such a landscape as this, as soon as we approach nearer, dis¬ 
solves into that monotony of texture and uniformity of hue, with 


i Akenside 
T 






162 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


which the scenery is invested from which we are so gladly 
receding. The hyperborean traveller, who imagines, whilst he is 
throwing his glance over these dreary regions, that he sees spires, 
turrets, castles, and churches, all floating in solemn pomp and 
triumphal succession, finds that he has nothing to do but lessen 
his distance, in order to discover that he has been indebted to his 
senses for the illusion, and to his fancy for the combinations. 
We then perceive, that it was only at a certain point that those 
pleasing ideas could be indulged, and that by transgressing that 
point, our imagination has been undeceived. W hen we are 
shewn for the first time, the indications and uses of a chronome¬ 
ter, we are struck with wonder at its utility, and the method of 
its construction; but when the artist explains to us the number 
and form of the wheels, spring, balance, etc.;—their relative 
position, and the results of their combination, our wonder is 
dissipated; or, to say the least, it decreases in the same propor¬ 
tions as we understand the machinery of a piece of workman¬ 
ship so complicated in its nature. The phenomena which are 
exhibited by our own living frame, both corporeal and mental, 
may well make us inquisitive into the essence of that being, 
which is so invisible to our external senses, yet so manifest by 
its operations; but as soon as we think of bursting the barriers, 
and arriving at a knowledge of the secret by the knife of the 
anatomist, we find, as Pope ingeniously observes, “that the 
principle of vitality has fled during the dissection.” 

These observations will lead us into a more immediate con¬ 
nexion with the subject of our discourse. We have already 
made the remark, that our opinions, and the views which we 
embrace, or the impressions which we receive, cannot alter the 
real and abstract nature of the objects which we contemplate; 
yet, since we find our mental frame constituted in this manner, 
it is evident, that there is no other method of considering them, 
but in a relative sense. An object that has been once interest¬ 
ing to us, will probably never be interesting again, merely be¬ 
cause we have varied our position, satisfied our inquiries and our 
admiration, and consequently will never be able to view it from 
the same point, and with the same feelings, as when it first excited 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


163 


our curiosity, and riveted our attention. A science that has 
once appeared to us so difficult and so profound, that it seemed 
to be placed beyond the reach of any intellect that was not 
superhuman, will never again awe us with ideas so overwhelming, 
after we have once passed the sacred precincts—the boundary¬ 
line of demarcation, and are beginning to gather upon our front 
the reflected light of axiom and demonstration. As this is an 
universal law of the mental constitution, it is one which ranges 
beneath its control, every thing which is accessible, and may 
be scrutinized by the external senses; and every truth which is 
obvious to the first effort of reason, or has been the result of 
a difficult and more complex elaboration. We have here no 
limitation—no necessity for the “ exceptio probat regulam.” 
The original susceptibility of the mind is still the same—the 
softness of the wax still continues, whatever may be the nature 
of the object which makes the impression. 

3. This gives us to see the only probable reason why we are so 
much dissatisfied with our present, acquisitions, and why we are 
so fond of feeding ourselves, in anticipation with the “vast idea 
big,” of those which we may make hereafter. This principle of 
our nature gathers strength by the number of its conquests— 
the fuel which feeds it serves merely to increase the flame, and 
its insatiability, if we may use the expression, runs parallel with 
the number and frequency of the objects which present them¬ 
selves for its gratification. Knowledge, if we may so speak, may 
be compared to caloric; whatever comes in contact with it is 
benefitted by communication, and since it is continually endea¬ 
vouring to restore an equilibrium, though it may lose nothing of 
its enlightening and vivifying influence, yet we lose a great deal 
of our sensibility, by being advanced into a more genial climate, 
and warmer temperature. 

That such a principle of curiosity, which has been implanted 
in us by an all-wise and a benevolent Being, is highly beneficial, 
and well adapted to our situation in the present world, physical 
as well as moral, is a subject that admits of no question. Nay, 
it may be doubted, and we believe very justly, whether when we 
take into consideration the circumstances that surround us, and 


164 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


the manner in which we are affected by external objects, whether 
omniscience, which, amongst the attributes of the Deity, is so 
prominent and illustrious, would confer upon an human being 
any additional happiness. We believe a little reflection would 
teach us that it would not, except it was linked along with some 
other attributes, which we, in this our fallen state, are capable 
of participating, and which are so influential in developing the 
happier j)hases of our moral character. If man were invested 
with this attribute, and were to retain the same situation which 
he holds at present in the great scale of rational existence, the 

“world and all that it inherits/’ would soon cease to interest 

\ 

him, and dissolve into an insipidity and uniformity, which would 
make the very act of existing intolerable. 

“That thought alone its state impairs, 

The lofty sinks, and shallows the profound, 

And straitens the diffusive!—dwarfs the whole, 

And makes an universe an orrery.” 1 

In our present condition, experience shews us that the greatest 
part of our happiness is derived from hope, and the anticipation 
of pleasure that is still future. 

“Man never is, but always to be blest.” 2 

This is a riddle which no man can solve, and an illusion 
with which every man is deceived. 

“ How I dreamt 

Of things impossible! (could sleep no more!) 

Of joys perpetual in perpetual change! 

Of stable pleasures on the tossing wave! 

Eternal sunshine in the storms of life! 

How richly were my noontide trances hung 

With gorgeous tapestries of pictured joys! 

Joy behind joy in endless perspective! ” 3 

In vain is it that our anticipations are quashed, or the cup of 
happiness dashed from our lips;—we are still building fresh 
structures upon the ruins of the old, and challenging the enemy 
upon the very tombs of our predecessors. Experience may pro¬ 
phesy that we shall be numbered with the “mighty who are 


I 


3 Young’s Night Thoughts. 


2 Pope. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


165 


fallen,” but she has always been cursed with the fate of Cassan¬ 
dra, never to be believed; whilst our hopes, as we are told of the 
palmtree, still rise with greater elasticity from the pressure, and 
like the “Chaldean astrologers at Rome, are always banished, 
but ever there.” Our hope of knowledge, like the hope of every 
thing else, has its pleasures, and like every other hope, must 
stand as a substitute for the happiness which we may fondly 
expect from the object we desire. “Every advancement in 
knowledge (says Dr. Johnson) produces new incitements to 
further progress. All the attainments possible in our present 
state, are evidently inadequate to our capacities for enjoyment;— 
conquest serves no purpose but that of kindling ambition;—dis¬ 
covery has no effect but that of raising expectation;—the grati¬ 
fication of one desire encourages another; and after all our 
labours, studies, and inquiries, we are continually at the same 
distance from the completion of our schemes—have still some 
wish importunate to be satisfied, and some faculty restless and 
turbulent for want of its enjoyment.” 

It does not appear then, as we may at first sight be apt to 
imagine, that omniscience, or the faculty of knowing every thing 
by intuition, would confer any additional happiness, whatever 
might be the superiority, upon any beings that are so constituted, 
and so circumstanced, as we are in our present state. Such a 
condition, however illustrious might be the exemption from the 
mists of darkness and ignorance with which our fellow creatures 
are struggling, would only lead us to feel a larger vacuum of 
happiness, and quicken our sensibilities; because our attention, 
which, in other cases, might have been diverted by the ordinary 
occurrences of life, or the more difficult investigations of philo¬ 
sophical research, would concentrate its force,—expend itself 
upon the unhappiness, and prey upon the vitals of its possessor. 
Such a state, however imposing the aspect, would bring along 
with it no advantages which would counterbalance the mischief, 
but only shew us still more forcibly than any abstract language 
can do, that the “tree of knowledge is not that of life.” 1 We 


i Byron’s Manfred. 






16H 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


should then fully feel, that we had arrived at that pitch of 
misery which is alluded to by the poet:— 

“Till languor, suffering on the rack of bliss, 

Confess that man was never made for this.” i 

As we are at present situated, this alternation of light and 
shade—of happiness and misery—of hope and disappointment* 
serves a very important part in our present world, when we 
view it in the light of a state that is probationary. If the ar¬ 
rangement of this system, as it developes itself in the chequered 
scenery of life, does not shew us where our happiness is to be 
found, it at least shews us where it is not. We discover, that 
our “summum bonum ” is not to be met with in the catalogue of 
things visible, and that the big desires of an immortal spirit are 
not to be bounded within the narrow sphere of our earthly 
enjoyments. 

“Else wherefore burns 
In mortal bosoms this unquenched hope, 

That breathes from day to day sublimer things, 

And mocks possession?” 2 

Without such a principle of hope, when we turn our attention 
to the movements of the social machine, we should sink into a 
state of apathy;—every design would stagnate in the embryo of 
cogitation, and disappointment would become synonymous with 
despair. Such would be the degree of lethargy to which all our 
faculties would be reduced, that it would be impossible for us 
to gather up as much energy and “ nerve” as would be sufficient 
to carry us through the common occurrences of life, or fortify 
us against its most ordinary casualities. 

From these remarks it is evident, that our value for the acqui¬ 
sitions which we have already made, will decline in the same 
proportion as hope, that everlasting spring within us, is abstract¬ 
ing our attention from the past and the present, and directing 
it to the future. The very fact, that we are aspiring after some¬ 
thing that is still distant and unknown, proves that our present 
enjoyments are not sufficient to satisfy us. Pleasures of every 


1 Pope. 


2 Akenside. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


167 


kind become stale and powerless by length of time and frequency 
of repetition. “The imagination all compact (says a modern 
writer), which the greatest poet, who ever lived, has assigned as 
a badge of his brethren, is in every case a dangerous gift. It 
exaggerates indeed our expectations, and can often bid its pos¬ 
sessor hope where hope is lost to reason; but the delusive plea¬ 
sure arising from these visions of imagination, resembles that of 
a child, whose notice is attracted to a fragment of glass to which 
a sunbeam has given momentary splendour. He hastens to the 
spot with breathless impatience, and finds the object of his 
curiosity equally vulgar and worthless. So it is with the man 
of quick and exalted powers of imagination. His fancy over¬ 
estimates the object of his wishes; and pleasure, fame, distinc¬ 
tion, are alternately pursued, attained, and despised, when in 
his power. Like the enchanted fruit in the palace of a sorcerer, 
the objects of his admiration lose their attraction and value as 
soon as they are grasped by the adventurer’s hand, and all that 
remains is regret for the time lost in the chase, and wonder at 
the hallucination under which it was undertaken.” 1 

If this be the case, then it is further evident, that in the same 
proportion as our value for our present acquisitions begins to 
decline, in the same proportion shall we begin to lose a proper 
sense of the labour and difficulty with which they were obtained. 
As soon as that apathy and indifference, which are naturally 
generated by length of possession, succeeds to the fondness of 
novelty—as soon as our conquests begin to fade upon the me¬ 
mory, or appear valueless in our estimation; it is impossible but 
that there should evaporate that vivid impression of the efforts, 
which were at first necessary to secure them. 

4. But in the application of these remarks to the present sub¬ 
ject of our discourse, there is also another difficulty which is 
coupled along with that which we have already mentioned. 
When we are talking of a state of ignorance, we are talking of 
something, which, in order to form a proper conception of it, 
would require us to divest ourselves of all the knowledge which 


i Sir Walter Scott’s Prose Works. Vol. 4. p. 405. 




168 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


we have acquired in our progress from the 'point to which we 
allude. Such a state of mind, with the whole order of feelings 
and conceptions that co-existed along with it, it would be as 
impossible to call up, as it would be to call up any other “intel¬ 
lectual” state, with its corresponding train of feelings and emo¬ 
tions. Whatever shreds and fragments of what was once “in- 
stinct with life,” we may be able to recall to our memory, yet 
we are still unable to make them contribute to that unity and 
integrality, which could alone give them any value. As Seneca 
tells us that, “time past is like something that is consecrated to 
the gods, because neither men nor things have any longer any 
control over it;” so it is with those “unities” of thought, feel¬ 
ing, and character, which are borne along upon its current. 

“We cannot recall to our memory (says Condillac) the 
ignorance in which we were born:—it is a state which leaves no 
trace behind it. We only recollect our ignorance of those things, 
the knowledge of which we recollect to have acquired; and to 
remark what we acquire, some previous knowledge is necessary. 
That memory which now renders us so sensible of the step 
from one acquisition to another, cannot remount to the first step 
of the progress; on the contrary, it supposes them already 
made; and hence the origin of our disposition to believe them 
connate with ourselves. To say that we have learnt to see, to 
hear, to taste, to smell, to touch, appears a most extraordinary 
paradox. It seems to us that nature gave us the complete use 
of our senses the moment she formed them, and that we have 
always made use of them without study, because we are no 
longer obliged to study in order to use them.” 

For this very reason, when we cast a retrospective glance 
upon the discoveries of past ages, how difficult is it for us to 
appreciate, with justness, the labours of our predecessors! It is 
no very easy matter for us to strip ourselves of our own intellec¬ 
tual associations, to enter into the very spirit of their thoughts 
and character, and conjure up all those phantoms of error, 
prejudice, and ignorance, with which they were encompassed. 
The meridian blaze that now flashes upon us, scarcely renders 
it possible for us to darken down the scene to that twilight of 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


169 


ft 


obscurity, which surrounded them on whatever side they wished 
to push their researches. And except we can do this, how can 
we give them the rank to which they are fairly entitled in the 
intellectual scale ? Except we can form a proper conception of 
the barriers which impeded their progress, how can we estimate 
the strength of intellect which was necessary to surmount them? 
Shall we deny to them any portion of wisdom, because we hap¬ 
pen to be wiser?—Shall we reject their pretensions to learning, 
because we are more learned ? What monstrous folly is it for 
us to expect that they should have been able to u crane up” the 
intellect of their own age to a level with the nineteenth century, 
when since the period in which they flourished, time , accident, 
and the efforts of thousands have all been crowding in their 
agency to facilitate its “march/* and accelerate its progress? It 
is thus, however, that the very accumulation of knowledge serves 
but to entomb its votaries; and the builders of science and 
philosophy, like the builders of the pyramids, dwindle into in¬ 
significance through the massiveness of the structure which they 
themselves have contributed to erect. The profound demon¬ 
strations of the mathematician draw our attention from the 
inventor of the rudiments of the science;—we admire the lofti¬ 
ness of the superstructure, without thinking of the foundation 
which supports it The discoveries of every age are lost like 
“a drop in the ocean;”—we avail ourselves of the labours of all 
that have gone before us, without considering to whom we are 
indebted;—we make use of them merely as auxiliaries, which, 
though, as we are apt to imagine, they might be dispensed with, 
yet at least are useful to nerve our arm for a more vigorous 
grasp, and plume our wings for a more adventurous flight. 

“ The very generations of the dead 
Are swept away, and tomb inherits tomb, 

Until the memory of an age is fled, 

And buried, sinks beneath its offspring’s doom!” * 

“It often happens (says Dr. Johnson) that the general 
reception of a doctrine obscures the books in which it was first 


i Byron. 
U 





170 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


delivered. When any tenet is generally received and adopted 
as an incontrovertible principle, we seldom look back to the 
arguments upon which it was first established, or can bear that 
tediousness of deduction and multiplicity of evidence, by which 
its author was obliged to reconcile it to prejudice, and fortify it 
in the weakness of novelty against obstinacy and envy. 

“ It is well known how much of our philosophy is derived from 
Boyle’s discovery of the qualities of the air; yet of those who 
adopt or enlarge his theory, very few have read the detail of his 
experiments. His name is indeed reverenced, but his works 
are neglected. We are contented to know that he conquered 
his opponents, without inquiring what cavils were produced 
against him, or by what proofs they were confuted.” 1 

“I have on a former occasion (says Mr. Stewart) taken 
notice of the slow, but, since the invention of printing, certain 
steps by which truth makes its way in the world; ‘the discove¬ 
ries which in one age are confined to the studious and enlighten¬ 
ed few, becoming in the next the established creed of the learn¬ 
ed ; and in the third forming part of the elementary principles 
of education.’ The harmony, in the mean time, which exists 
among truths of all descriptions, tends perpetually by blending 
them into one common mass, to increase the joint influence of 
the whole;—the contributions of individuals to this mass, (to 
borrow the fine allusion of Middleton) ‘resembling the drops 
of rain, which, falling separately into the water, mingle at once 
with the stream, and strengthen the general current.’” 2 

Since truth is nothing more than the relation which we 
observe betwixt two or more objects, or two or more ideas, it is 
evident, that as soon as w^e have perceived the relation, our 
work is finished. Hence originates the difficulty of discrimina¬ 
ting between the truths which we ourselves have discovered, 
and those which have been pointed out to us by others. With 
respect to those which have been pointed out to us by others, 
it is no easy matter for us to determine, whether we should have 
been able to have discovered them or not. On the one hand. 


1 Rambler. 2 Preliminary Dissertations to the Encyc. Britan, p. 120. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


171 


it is no easy matter for us to determine, what would be the 
precise quantum of previous information,—what would be the 
labour, and what the strength of intellect, w hich would have 
been necessary to secure them. On the other hand, it is no easy 
matter for us to determine, what lies within the range of possi¬ 
bility, what might have been effected by time and accident, or 
even a lucky suggestion in the very random of our conjectures. 
There are nearly the same difficulties with respect to those 
truths which have been pointed out to us by others. If we 
except the very first axioms of philosophy and common sense, 
no truth can be discovered without some other truth to build 
upon,—nothing can be made plain unless there be something 
plainer from whence to derive our illustrations. Hence the 
difficulty of distinguishing betwixt that part of those preliminary 
requirements which are more peculiarly our own, and that for 
which we have been under obligation to others—what part of 
the journey we have performed ourselves, and during what part 
we have been indebted to the “ donum fatalis virga,” the guid¬ 
ance and guardianship of the sibyl. But great as these difficul¬ 
ties are, we very seldom reflect upon them; and it is very cer¬ 
tain, that we never take them into account when we are estima¬ 
ting our own acquisitions. Hereditary knowledge we confound 
with the train of our own ideas; and the platform from which 
we pluck the fruit that hangs on the tree of knowledge, we very 
confidently imagine to be of our own construction. The goal 
from which we ourselves start, we think that we are entitled to 
by the privilege of our nature, and the same from which we 
should have started in whatever link of the generations that 
have gone by. Providence might have placed us. 

“When truths are once known to us (says Locke) through 
tradition, we are apt to be favourable to our own parts, and 
ascribe to our own understanding, the discovery of what in 
reality we borrowed from others; or at least, finding we can 
prove what at first we learnt from others, we are forward to con¬ 
clude it an obvious truth, which, if we had sought, we could not 
have missed. Nothing seems hard to our understanding that is 
once known; and because what we see, we see with our own 


172 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


eyes, we are apt to overlook or forget the help we had from others 
who shewed it us, and first made us see it, as if we were not at 
all beholden to them for those truths they opened the way to, 
and led us into; for, knowledge being only of truths that are 
perceived to be so, we are favourable enough to our own facul¬ 
ties to conclude that they, of their own strength, would have 
attained those discoveries without any foreign assistance, and 
that we know those truths by the strength and native light of 
our own minds, as they did from whom we received them by 
theirs—only they had the luck to be before us. Thus the whole 
stock of human knowledge is claimed by every one as his private 
possession, as soon as he (profiting by others’ discoveries) has 
got it into his own mind: and so it is; but not properly by his 
own single industry, nor of his own acquisition. He studies, it 
is true, and takes pains to make a progress in what others have 
delivered; but their pains were of another sort who first brought 
these truths to light, which he afterwards derives from them. 
He that travels the road now, applauds his own strength and 
legs, that have carried him so far in such a scantling of time, 
and ascribes all to his own vigour; little considering how much 
he owes to their pains who cleared the woods, drained the bogs, 
built the bridges, and made the ways passable, without which, 
he might have toiled much with little progress.” 1 

We do not know in what more ridiculous point of view hu¬ 
man vanity can present itself, than in that which is the imme¬ 
diate subject of our consideration. Though we have observed 
that this state of mind proceeds in some degree from its natural 
constitution, yet we must still stigmatize it with the name of 
vanity, since it proceeds in a greater degree from too much 
assumption and a want of reflection. When we consider the 
intellectual labours which have been so diligently prosecuted 
during the ages that are past—when we consider the studies of 
the abstract and recluse, and the still more important studies of 
those who descended to combine theory with practice—when 
we look at the results of the natural development of science. 


1 Reasonableness of Christianity. 






LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


173 


aided as it has been in many instances, by a coincidence of 
fortuitous circumstances—when we consider all this, how strange 
must that man appear to us, who should imagine himself to be 
equal to the task of such accumulated discoveries;—when at 
the same time it might be a matter of dispute, whether he 
would have been able to carry the palm of victory from the 
most humble of his predecessors, whom he looks down upon 
with such “ contemptuous commiseration.” But strange as this 
character may appear, our familiarity with it is the only thing 
that prevents us from recognizing it as a faithful picture of our 
own mind. It is a remark of Plato, that “ those who have 
inherited wealth from their ancestors, are generally more liberal 
than those who have acquired it by their own industry.” The 
remark is applicable to the present case. Of that inheritance 
of knowledge which has descended to us en masse, we are more 
liberal than the most prodigal spendthrift. As we have never 
had the trouble of acquiring it, so it is beyond our estimation; 
only we have the overweening vanity to think, that we have 
been robbed of the honour merely by being anticipated; and 
that whether we have acquired it or not by our own industry, 
yet still the acquisition was within the range of that unknown 
and unexerted “ potentiality,” which lies so unfathomably within 
us. To cure ourselves of this vanity, it might be well for us 
to transplant ourselves occasionally into the middle of some 
science that we have hitherto unravelled—to place ourselves 
upon what has afterwards been found to be the verge of some 
great discovery; and then we may “ give the reins ” to our intel¬ 
lect, and permit ourselves to “ ride the air in whirlwind,” and 
perhaps it will be all to little purpose. After we have racked 
our brains for some time without any satisfactory result—after 
we have hovered for a while over the “ abyss of unideal vacan¬ 
cy;” if <c our pride has not quite eaten up our good nature,” 
we shall be candid enough to confess, that a capacity for com¬ 
prehension is not synonymous with a capacity for discovery. 
The history of philosophy is nothing more than a successive 
series of cases of this kind—of inventions, which have been 
equally thought impossible before they were discovered; and 


174 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


which, after the discovery, men have equally wondered by 
what stupidity and perverseness of intellect, they had been 
previously overlooked. On this subject, we shall take the liberty 
of introducing' an extract from a lecture which was delivered 
some time ag’o by one of the authors of the present volume. 

“ I was informed (says Herodotus, when speaking of the 
ancient Egyptians) that Sesostris had divided Egypt among 
all his subjects, assigning to each an equal portion of land, on 
condition of paying an annual tax. If in consequence of the 
overflowing of the Nile, the allotment of any one was diminished 
or rendered doubtful, the king caused it to be measured, and 
required a tribute in proportion to that which remained.” 1 
Here we see, as in many other cases, that necessity was the 
mother of invention, and that those things which are useful, 
generally take the precedency of those which are either orna¬ 
mental or curious. But little did these ancient geometers ima¬ 
gine that they were but opening the path to discoveries more 
sublime, and that they were but laying the foundation of sci¬ 
ences, which for intellectual abstraction and certainty of demon¬ 
stration, may well be called the “Mathesis, or Science of disci¬ 
pline.” 

Pliny tells us, that “some merchants, who traded in mineral 
alkali, having occasion to dress their food, and being unable to 
find stones upon which their culinary vessels might rest, placed 
them on large blocks of mineral alkali, which being melted by 
the heat of the fire, and mixing with the sand on the sea shore, 
flowed, to the surprise of the merchants, in a translucent stream; 
whence originated the making of glass.” 2 Yet upon this simple 
discovery is founded the whole science of astronomy; and with¬ 
out it Galileo and Sir Isaac Newton might have risen and 
expended their energies in vain.—We might still have imagined 
that the earth was in the centre, and the heavenly luminaries 
were fixed in an arch of crystal; and we should never have been 
able to have completed that round of lofty conception, which 
shews us that the universe is lost in its own immensity. 


1 Vol. 1 p. 190. Ed. Reiz. 


2 Hist. Nat. lib. 36. cap. 25. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


175 


When we read of the ancient inhabitants of Greece putting 
out to sea in the hollow trunk of a tree, cautiously cruising 
along the shore, scarcely dreaming that it was possible for any 
star to become their friend, whilst every wave was threatening 
to send them “ howling to their gods;” what an idea does it 
excite of human imbecility and human weakness ! But how 
rapidly does that idea fade away, when we travel through the 
histories of Tyre and Carthage—of Alexandria and Venice, 
down to the navy of that country, 

“ Whose march is on the mountain-wave, 

Whose home is on the deep.” 1 

Nay even the follies of the wise have in many cases furthered 
the progress of science. The mania of the alchemists, which 
originated in the seventh century among the Arabian philoso¬ 
phers, and which continued till the sixteenth, is well known. 
Their primary objects were to find out the philosopher's stone, 
which should possess the singular faculty of transmuting every 
metal into gold, and an infallible elixir which should counteract 
the decrees of Providence, and confer immortality upon its 
possessor. Yet however visionary such objects may appear, 
they led the way to the most elaborate processes 2 —laid the 
foundation of real practical chemistry, and though they failed 
to attain their specific object, yet future ages are indebted to 
their labours for many valuable, though incidental, discoveries. 
“Some important combinations (says a modern writer) were 
produced, by which pharmacy has been enriched, and the 
science of medicine promoted. The method of preparing alco¬ 
hol, aqua-fortis, volatile alkali, vitriolic acid, and gun-powder 
might still have remained unknown, had it not been for the 
persevering labours, and the patient experiments of the middle 
ages.” 

We are aware, that illustrations of this kind might be extended 
ad infinitum, for we know nothing that can limit them, except 
the boundaries of science itself. When Monsieur Goguet 


x Campbell. 2 , See Bacon’s Novum Organum. Aphor. 84. 





176 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


proves to us from the terms then in use, that the eldest inhabi¬ 
tants of Greece had no other system of arithmetical computation 
than what was supplied to them by their lingers; 1 —who, at that 
early period, would ever have ventured to predict that, in pro¬ 
cess of time, calculations so gigantic as to leave human concep¬ 
tion “ panting in the distant vale,” would be so easily mastered 
by a simple table constructed upon the principles of logarithms P 
What a transition is there from the rude clepsydras or water- 
clocks of the ancients, to the finished chronometers of Grimal¬ 
di, which vie in regularity and accuracy with those which have 
been appointed for the measurement of “ days and of years and 
of seasons?” The Torricellian experiment brought something 
else along with it besides the mere knowledge of the pressure 
of the atmosphere;—and the prism, besides “untwisting the 
beauteous robe of day,” unfolded to us the whole theory of 
colours. The mixture of a little nitre and charcoal has worked 
a total revolution in the whole system of warfare; and the dis- 
covery of the polarity of the magnet, has annihilated the inter¬ 
vention of seas—bound nation to nation, and belted the very 
globe itself. The invention of a few wooden types, which were 
afterwards succeeded by metal ones, has given a greater impulse 
to civilization than all other causes put together; and by so 
widely disseminating the accumulated treasures of every lan¬ 
guage, and rendering them so easily accessible to every indivi¬ 
dual, they have made man, in the true sense of the word, the 
“ genius of every age, and the citizen of every clime.” 

It is thus that no discovery, however simple it may appear, can 
ever be looked upon as insignificant, inasmuch as it is impossi¬ 
ble for us to tell what may be the treasures which it may unfold 
to us hereafter. When we are casting a retrospective glance 
upon the labours of our predecessors, it would be well for us, 


i “ Homer (Odyss. 4. verse 412) uses the word «£dv, which signifies 
to asssemble by five and five. Plutarch and several lexicographers tell 
us, that they had no other word in the infancy of the Greek language for 
calculating. It then signified what is now expressed by the term apifyxdv.” 
Goguet’s Origin of Laws, Arts, and Sciences. Vol 1. Book. 3. cap. 2. 
p. 212, Ed. Edinburgh. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


177 


not to consider merely the intrinsic value of their specific con¬ 
tributions, but the line of inquiry into which these contributions 
have driven the researches of their successors. When we view 
them in their external relations—in what manner each succeed¬ 
ing superstructure is grounded upon the basis that supports it, 
we shall soon see, that nothing can be considered as trifling, 
which forms an essential part of a series so important. “The 
smallest thing (says Foster) becomes respectable, when regard¬ 
ed as the commencement of what has advanced, or is advancing 
into magnificence. The first rude settlement of Romulus would 
have been an insignificant circumstance, and might justly have 
sunk into oblivion, if Rome had not at length commanded the 
world. The little rill near the source of one of the great Ame¬ 
rican rivers, is an interesting object to the traveller, who is 
apprised, as he steps across it, or walks a few miles along its 
bank, that this is the stream which runs so far, and gradually 
swells into so immense a flood.” 1 

5. The remarks which we have already made with respect to the 
progress of science, may be applied to the progress of society in 
general. Philosophers tell us, that there is operating throughout 
all nature a law of continuity, by which they mean a concatena¬ 
tion and gradual operation of causes and effects—that nothing 
takes place suddenly, but is produced by degrees infinitesimally 
small. Applicable as this law may be to physics, it is still no 
less applicable to the history of the human mind. It is no more 
true that man is capable of propagating his own likeness, and 
that his representatives are standing upon the earth at the dis¬ 
tance of nearly six thousand years, than that he is capable of 
transmitting the features of his own intellectual image from age 
to age. In this sense we may boldly combat for the reality of a 
Pythagorean transmigration. There is a stream of thought 
which may be traced up to the earliest periods of history—a 
stream to which every generation has contributed its quota, and 
which has increased in grandeur as it has rolled along with the tide 
of human existence. The follies, the errors, and the discoveries 


i Essays. Vol. 1. p. 7. See page 24 of the present Work. 

W 







178 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


of our forefathers, are exerting no slight degree of influence upon 
the character of the present age; and our own follies, errors, 
and discoveries, will give a colour to the thoughts of generations 
yet unborn. True it is that the solemn dirge, “ dust to dust,” 
may then have long since swept over us;—true it is that our 
bodies may then have long since submitted to the laws of che¬ 
mical decomposition, and nothing may be left of us but the 
mouldering remnant of our bones; yet equally true is it, that 
even in this world there is a something that lives immortal 
beyond the tomb, and like the fabled bird of Egypt, mounts in 
splendour from its ashes. The last ray of genius which we may 
have seen extinguished by the death of one who has dazzled the 
world with his lustre, may perhaps, at that very moment, be 
lighting up in the bosom of some other, whose career may be as 
brilliant, and whose extinction may be as deeply lamented. 

I shall not make any farther experiments upon your patience, 
as I am not convinced of the utility of going into detail. My 
object, at present, is not so much to communicate information, as 
to produce an impression, the “ totality ” of which is broken by 
bringing the reasoning faculties into action. I could therefore 
wish you merely to pass the gulph that yawns between—to throw 
yourselves back into the earliest periods of profane history—to 
surround yourselves with the entire scenery of the world, when 
man was in the first rude stages of civilization—to behold him 
coming naked into the world, struggling with the elements, 
whilst every other animal, by the mere impulse of its own native 
instinct, appeared to rise infinitely his superior! After contem¬ 
plating such a scene as this, I could wish you then to translate 
yourselves into the interior of some mighty empire, where ge¬ 
nius has long been nourished under the fostering care of the 
legislature—where the basis of a jurisprudence has been laid 
upon a reciprocity of duties—where the laws have been respect¬ 
ed, and where rights have not been infringed upon—where phi¬ 
losophy has long been enthroned—where mechanical invention 
has long been upon the rack, and where the discoveries of every 
age and clime have been concentrated as in one grand focus. 
I would merely ask you what would then be the state and 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


179 


vividness ol your feelings; and though your feelings are not 
now so vivid, merely through long-continued habits of familiarity 

with the objects that we are discussing, yet the facts still remain 
the same:— 

“Look down on earth.—What seest thou? Wondrous things! 
Terrestrial wonders, that eclipse the skies. 

What lengths of labour’d lands! what loaded seas 
Loaded by man, for pleasure, wealth, or war! 

Seas, winds, and planets, into service brought, 

His art acknowledge, and promote his ends. 

Nor can th’ eternal rocks his will withstand: 

What leveled mountains! and what lifted vales! 

O’er vales and mountains sumptuous cities swell, 

And gild our landscape with their glitt’ring spires. 

Some ’mid the wond’ring waves majestic rise; 

And Neptune holds a mirror to their charms. 

Far greater still! (what cannot human might?) 

See wide dominions ravish’d from the deep! 

The narrow’d deep with indignation foams. 

Or southward turn, to delicate and grand, 

The finer arts there ripen in the sun. 

How the tall temples, as to meet their gods, 

Ascend the skies ! the proud triumphal arch 
Shews us half heav’n beneath its ample bend. 

High through mid air, here streams are taught to flow; 

Whole rivers, there, laid by in basins, sleep. 

Here, plains turn oceans; there vast oceans join 
Thro’ kingdoms channel’d deep from shore to shore; 

And changed creation takes its face from man. 

# # * # # 

Earth’s disembowel’d! measur’d are the skies! 

Stars are detected in their deep recess! 

Creation widens! vanquish’d nature yields! 

Her secrets are extorted! Art prevails! 

What monuments of genius, spirit, pow’r! 

And now, Lorenzo, raptured at this scene, 

Whose glories render heav’n superfluous! say, 

Whose footsteps these ?—Immortals have been here. 

Could less than souls immortal this have done? ” * 


i Young’s Night Thoughts. 



180 


literary pancratium. 


ON THOSE MENTAL ASSOCIATIONS WHICH PRECEDE AND 

FOLLOW DISCOVERIES. 

SECT. III. 

I. The necessity of diversified illustrations in argumentative 
disquisitions. 2. The advantages of studying the philosophy 
of the human mind. 3. An enumeration of the different 
sources of prejudices. 4. Observations upon the intellectual 
character of Lord Bacon. 5. A general reflection. 

1. The field of inquiry upon which we entered in the preced¬ 
ing 1 sections, we have found necessary to illustrate, not merely 
by such remarks as appear to bear directly upon the subject, 
but also by others, which, though fetched from a wider distance, 
and maintaining only a subordinate character, yet still seem, 
nevertheless, to throw additional light upon that view which we 
are taking of the subject. As there are some arguments which 
are of very little service before they are explained and fortified 
by others that are merely subsidiary or collateral, so there are 
some observations and positions which it would be of very little 
use barely to enunciate, and which require a nicer analysis, and 
a more expansive evolution, before their merits can either be 
felt or appreciated. To this, however, we have endeavoured to 
pay proper attention; and if the mind has been enabled to take 
more accurate and comprehensive dimensions of its subject by 
viewing it in different positions;—if the impression has been 
gathering strength upon the reader, though solely by the com¬ 
munication of such information as was merely illustrative, then, 
perhaps, no apology will be expected; and if the definition 
of method, which is given by Hooker, be correct, that every 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


181 


succeeding' part should depend upon the preceding, it perhaps 
may be found that no such definition has been violated. 

Should there be any who think that our notes of preparation 
have been sounded a little what too long, and a little what too 
loudly, w r e would advise such, if they could wish to be comfort¬ 
able instead of being querulous, to dream themselves into a 
state of self-complacency and self-congratulation, by reflecting 
upon their own perspicacity. With respect to those who are, 
or those who imagine that they are, thorough-paced in disquisi¬ 
tions of this kind, it would perhaps be no very profound obser¬ 
vation to tell them, that they are not the only characters for whom 
we are writing. To write for the intelligent merely, would be 
to write for a class who, to say the least, are inconsiderable in 
numbers; whilst, if utility be an ingredient amongst that com¬ 
plexity of motives which gives stimulus to the human mind, it 
would certainly be to limit the extent of its operation. There 
is a common sense diffused throughout the species—an average 
intellect, bounded by no caste , and fettered by no locality, 
which ought to be the standard to whose capacity every writer, 
who could wish to be useful, should labour to adapt himself. 
And how can he do this more effectually, than by leading the 
reader gently by the hand,—by accustoming his eye gradually 
to that portion of light with which it must hereafter see its way, 
or rather, if we may so speak, by giving it the power, in some 
measure, of illuminating every subject which comes within its 
glance. To pass at once the gulph which separates the first 
elemental truths from the finest generalizations of science;—to 
*‘talk about things celestial,” before the reader understands 
things that are “ terrestrial; ”—to mount ourselves upon the 
clouds, whilst he is pacing peaceably upon the earth; all this 
would be very well, if our desire was merely to widen the dis¬ 
tance betwixt us; but, probably, that would be its sole recom¬ 
mendation. Whilst there are intellects of a higher order, which, 
like that of Newton, will arrive, as it were, by a glance of 
instinctive intuition, at the remotest results of a demonstration, 
without scarcely so much as reflecting upon the intervening 
propositions, we must also recollect that there are others, whose 


182 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


movements are not of so rapid a description, and who, through 
the mere abruptness of transition, would be deprived of the only 
thread which would lead them to any legitimate conclusion. 

2. Our labours, we should feel, had not been altogether abor¬ 
tive, if, laying out of the question the ultimate aim of our 
remarks, they should stimulate the reader to enter into a more 
intimate acquaintance with that department of study, which, 
emerging out of the metaphysical subtleties of the schools, has 
presented itself in these latter ages with a more appropriate title, 
and under a more dignified aspect: we mean the “philosophy of 
the human mind.” Notwithstanding the efforts which have been 
made, and are still making, for the diffusion of knowledge— 
though the tide of our national literature has set in so strongly 
upon the aggregate ignorance of our country, and learning has 
no longer become the characteristic badge of any particular 
profession—yet it is much to be doubted whether the cultivation 
of this branch of study has been equal, we will not say, to that 
of other branches, but to that which the importance of the sub¬ 
ject appears to demand. The array of science, the fascination 
of system and hypothesis, the parade of literature, with all its 
ponderous apparatus “ in tow,” have too dazzling and imposing 
an effect not to concentrate our attention upon themselves; 
whilst, at the same time, they have a tendency to withdraw it 
from those finer processes of thought, which are so powerful in 
spiritualizing our knowledge, and rendering it still more worthy 
of “ wisdom’s mien celestial.” Every particle of information, 
which flows in upon us from the former source, we consider as 
a real and positive accession; whilst, at the same time, every 
thing that is the result of a more elaborate decomposition, we 
are too apt to look upon as too fleeting and evanescent to be 
dignified with the name of knowledge. It is an illusion of so 
imposing a nature, that probably there is no person who has 
not, at one time or other, fallen into it; and consequently, any 
caution that may be given upon this head, can never be said to 
be unnecessary. We are frequently so over-anxious to over¬ 
load the fire with fuel, that, as Sir William Temple observes, 
we smother, at the same time, the spark that is slumbering in 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


183 


the ashes. If judgment, as Locke tells us, consist chiefly in 
marking the differences of things rather than their resemblances, 
what field can there be for its labours ?—what arena for its exer¬ 
tions, when we have no other object in view, but that of accumu¬ 
lation ? “ He who heaps together much is not therefore a learned 
man, but he who reasons, defends, and fortifies with arguments.” 1 
Every thing which the latter has seen or heard, he merely consi¬ 
ders as the elements of future thought; and though he avails him¬ 
self of all the treasures of past ages, yet he is constantly adding to 
his own intellectual wealth, by bringing bis mind to move upon 
that chaos of complex conceptions, which in every mind are 
different, and which, after a successful analysis, he may find to 
contain the germ of some glorious truth which may modify 
every science, and be the harbinger of that brighter day which 
is to dawn upon the inquirers of future ages. 

Though long conversation with material forms has almost made 
us imagine that they are the only real subsistences in the world— 
though physical bulk is so imposing to our eyes, that we have 
almost converted it into the sole undeviating standard by which 
to regulate our value and admiration of external objects; yet 
so long as the spiritual principle, endowed with the faculty of 
volition, continues to be the high prerogative of man—so long 
as the body is but merely an organ of communication by which 
our sympathies are linked with the “ world, and the world’s 
law,” whilst the being which it enshrines, is destined to survive 
“the wreck of its mortal tenement, and aspire to immortality;”— 
so long as this is the case, any inquiry into the laws by which 
the mental phenomena are governed, can never be said to be 
unimportant. Shall we be wanderers “ on the sea and on the 
shore ? ” Shall our “ souls drink the sunbeams ” of foreign 
climes, and shall we never think of exploring our own P Shall 
the mind which is continually drawn forth in exercise upon the 
“ globe, and all that it inherits,” never turn its eye inward upon 
itself? or if it does, shall it return broken down by a sense of its 
own littleness, and dwindled into insignificance by the greatness 


x Morus. Diss. Theol. et Philolog. 







184 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


of its own operations? Shall the principle, which is capable of 
measuring earth and skies, be inquired into with no greater 
intensity of interest than when we are investigating “ the angles 
of a crystal, and the fructification of a moss? ” Yet for the 
prosecution of this study, every facility presents itself. The 
object upon which we operate, the instruments of our operation, 
and the operating agent, are the same. No tedious “waiting for 
of times and seasons, no costly apparatus ” are necessary to in¬ 
troduce us to the internal world of thought;—no long and painful 
course of initiation is required before we can converse with its 
mysteries. In every scene of life, in every variety of circum¬ 
stance, under every sky, we can be admitted to that empire of 
ideas which, unlike the empires of this world, is neither station¬ 
ary nor retrograde, but continually merging into others that are 
still more extended, widening by the vigour of that plastic 
energy with which they are animated. It is here that the mind 
recovers its true dignity, and though many of its conceptions, 
in this higher sphere, may appear as too etherial and sublime, 
as almost divested of every earthly appendage, and “looking 
over into the vale of non-existence,” yet he who is possessed of 
these “ leges legum,” knows full well that he has not embraced a 
cloud instead of Juno. “For though, all learning (says Bacon) 
should be referred to action, yet we may here easily fall into 
the error of supposing the stomach idle, because it neither per¬ 
forms the office of motion, as the limbs; nor of sense, as the 
head; though it digests and distributes to all the other parts: 
in like manner, if a man thinks philosophy and universality but 
idle studies, he does not consider that all professions are from 
thence supplied.” 1 “ But as knowledge is justly called the food 

of the mind, so in the desire and choice of this food, most men 
have the appetite of the Israelites in the wilderness, wdio, weary 
of manna, as a thin, though celestial, diet, would have gladly 
returned to the ‘ flesh-potsthus, generally, those sciences re¬ 
lish best, that participate of somewhat more filling, and nearer 
related to f flesh and blood;’ as civil history, morality, and 


1 Bacon. De Augrnentis Scientiarum. Preliminaries. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


185 


politics whereon men’s affections, praises, fortunes turn, and 
are employed ; whilst the other dry light offends, and dries up 
the soft and humid capacities of most men. But if we would 
rate things according to their real worth, the rational sciences 
are the key to all the rest; for as the hand is the instrument of 
instruments, and the mind the form of forms, so the rational 
sciences are to be esteemed the art of arts. Nor do they direct 
only, but also strengthen and confirm; as the use and habit 
of shooting not only enable one to shoot nearer the mark, 
but likewise to draw a stronger bow.” 1 However intense ap¬ 
plication, therefore, this study may require, yet if it be true 
“ that every thing flows from principles, and sublimity in great 
things, depends upon accuracy in little ,” z we ought to be suf¬ 
ficiently impressed with the indispensable utility of such occa¬ 
sional application, and whatever talents and energy may be 
embarked in enterprises of this character, it appears to be a 
sufficient source of satisfaction, that they will not be altogether 
unavailing. We may, perhaps, not be able to obtain the pre¬ 
cise objects in view, but we shall gain that which is of infinitely 
more consequence,—a spirit which is as indefatigable as it is 
penetrating, and which may be gradually “ forming us for still 
more illustrious fields.” Like the Romans, in the time of the 
first Punic war, we may acquire additional vigour from our 
very defeat; and like the giant, in the fables of mythology, the 
moment that we touch the earth, may be the very moment of 
our intellectual renovation. 

3. In turning our attention to the history and the develop¬ 
ment of the human mind, perhaps nothing would excite a 
greater interest, or open to us a richer vein of thought, than an 
inquiry into those false associations , which have characterized 
the spirit of every particular age, and have exerted so powerful 
an influence upon the progressive well-being of the species. It 
is these which, when mixing themselves up with religion, have, 
on the one hand, transmuted all the vitality of active principle 
into the indolence of ascetic contemplation, and all the finer 


i Id. Section 1. 2 Dr. Sam. Clarke --Preface to his edition of Homer. 


X 



186 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


feelings of the heart into mere intellectuality of conception; 
whilst on the other hand, they “ have completed human wretch¬ 
edness, by obdurating the heart, giving birth to sanguinary su¬ 
perstitions, and by introducing a corruption of morals, destruc¬ 
tive of the very elements of well-ordered society.”—It is these 
which, when entering into “ gubernative and legislative institu¬ 
tions/' when sanctioned by authority, and grown reverend 
with age—it is these which have done so much to obstruct the 
“ march” of civilization—which have paralysed the energies of 
the finest nations of antiquity, and thrown their intellect into 
fetters. We do not say, that effects so appalling are to be as¬ 
cribed altogether to a want of moral principle, though the de¬ 
ficiency of that is sufficiently alarming. Though many of these 
calamities may have originated from sheer mental incapacity, 
yet far more have been occasioned by that intellectual perversity 
which, in many cases, is a misfortune rather than a crime, and 
which ought to excite pity rather than provoke indignation. 
“To be angry with those who are in error, (says Seneca,) is as 
preposterous as to be angry with those who stumble in the dark; 
and he who could wish to possess the power of forgiving indivi¬ 
duals, ought first to know how much must be forgiven to the 
species in general.” For the rectification of errors of this cha¬ 
racter, not so much is to be expected from the efforts of indivi¬ 
duals, as from the silent progress of time 1 which, by gradually 
loosening the accidental connections of things, presents them 
either abstracted or in different combinations, divests them of 
the unknown spell which bound them, and often renders that 
accessible to the most infantine capacity, which before was 
impregnable by reason. Hence it is that history, besides 
being the “ herald of antiquity, and the light of truth, is also 
* magistra vitce,’ the director of our conduct.” 2 “ If Ulysses was 


i “It is the greatest weakness to be attributing infinite things to authors, 
whilst we are refusing justice to the author of authors and all authority— 
which is time ; for truth is justly called the daughter of time, and not of 
authority.”— Bacon’s Novum Organum. Aphor. 84. 


2 Cic. De Oratore. lib. 2. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


187 


wise because he had visited many cities and speculated on every 
variety of character, 

noXXa>v ayGpfoTrwv occrrsa, kou voov syvu, 

How much wiser is he who, standing aloof from danger, listens 
calmly to the experience of past ages ! He shall see the Cha¬ 
ry bdis, but not in a shipwreck ! He shall hear the Sirens, hut 
not in fetters ! He shall meet with the Cyclops, but not in a 
paroxysm of anger !” 1 

But the false associations which bear more immediately up¬ 
on our present subject, are those which belong to the depart¬ 
ment of philosophy, and which have been so admirably analyzed 
by Lord Bacon, under the quaint, though appropriate desig¬ 
nation of “ idols.” These are the more dangerous, inasmuch 
as they do not, as in the former case, originate merely from cir¬ 
cumstances unfavourable to the development of the progressive 
intellect of the species. It is here that every man has his own 
“ familiarnor is it possible for us to be too much upon our 
guard, whilst errors of this kind take their rise from the natural 
constitution and working of the human mind, blending itself 
with the contemplation of external objects. Bacon considered 
the enumeration of them “ as the more necessary, that the same 
idols were likely to return, even after the reformation of science, 
and to avail themselves of the real discoveries that might have 
been made for giving a colour to their deceptions. 

“ There are four kinds of idols, (he proceeds) that possess 
the mind of man. In order to be better understood, we will 
assign names to them, and call the first kind, idols of the tribe; 
the second, idols of the den ; the third, idols of the market; the 
fourth, idols of the theatre. 

“ The raising of notions and axioms by legitimate induction, 
is doubtless the proper remedy for removing and driving out 
the idols of the mind; yet the indication of idols is a thing of 
great use, the doctrine of them being to the interpretation of 
nature, what the doctrine of the confutations of sophisms is to 
the common logic. 


i Maximus Tyrius. Dissert. 12. 




188 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


“ Idols of the tribe have their foundation in human nature, 
and the whole tribe or race of mankind; for it is a false asser¬ 
tion, that the human sense is the measure of things, since all 
perceptions both of the sense and mind, are with relation to 
man, and not with relation to the universe. But the human 
understanding is like an unequal mirror to the rays of things, 
which, mixing its own nature with the nature of things, distorts 
and perverts them. 

“ Idols of the den are the idols of every man in particular; 
for, besides the general aberrations of human nature, we, every 
one of us, have our peculiar den or cavern, which refracts and 
corrupts the light of nature, either because every man has his 
respective temper, education, acquaintance, course of reading, 
and authorities, or because of the differences of opinions, as 
they happen in a mind prejudiced or prepossessed, or in one 
that is calm and equal, &c.: so that the human spirit, accord¬ 
ing to its disposition in individuals, is an uncertain, very dis¬ 
orderly, and almost accidental thing. Whence Heraclitus 
well observes that men seek the sciences in the lesser worlds, 
and not in the great and common one. 

“ There are also idols that have their rise, as it were, from 
compact, and the association of mankind ; which, on account 
of the dealings and commerce that men have with one another, 
we call idols of the market. For men associate by discourse ; 
but words are imposed according to the capacity of the vulgar; 
whence a false and improper imposition of words strangely pos¬ 
sesses the understanding. Nor do the definitions and explana¬ 
tions wherewith men of learning, in some cases, defend and 
vindicate themselves, any way repair the injury; for words 
absolutely force the understanding, put all things in confusion, 
and lead men away to idle controversies and subtleties without 
number. 

“ Lastly, there are idols which have got into the human mind, 
from the different tenets of philosophers, and the perverted 
laws of demonstration. And these we denominate, idols of the 
theatre; because all the philosophies that have hitherto been 
invented or received, are but as so many stage-plays, written or 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


180 


acted, as having shewn nothing hut fictitious and theatrical 
worlds. Nor is this said only of the ancient or present sects 
and philosophies ; for numberless other fables, of the like kind, 
may be still invented and dressed up, since quite different errors 
will proceed from almost all the same common causes. Nor 
again do we mean it only of general philosophies, but likewise 
of numerous principles and axioms of the sciences, which have 
prevailed through tradition, belief, and neglect.” 1 

“No man has yet appeared of so great constancy and firm¬ 
ness of mind, as to impose upon himself the total extirpation of 
theories, and common notions, and offer the understanding 
quite plain and smooth, to receive particulars anew; and, 
therefore, that knowledge we have, is nothing more than an 
undigested heap, and collection of much faith and accident, 
mixed with abundance of childish notions, imbibed in our 
youth. Whence if any one of riper years, sound in his senses, 
and of a clear, unbiassed mind, were to apply himself afresh to 
experience and particulars, better things might be expected 
from him.” 2 

4. But instead of prosecuting the subject any farther, we 
refer the reader to the work itself. The “ doctrine of idols,” 
which forms the introductory part to the “ Novum Organum ,” 
will perhaps be considered, by the non-scientific inquirer, as 
the most interesting portion. It was long, before the merits of 
this invaluable treatise were properly appreciated. Bacon 
seems to have been fully aware that he had shot ahead of the 
age in which he lived ; and, as a compensation for the arrears 
of justice which were due to him, he bequeathed his name to 
posterity, being sensible that “time, though it destroys the fic¬ 
tions of opinion, yet confirms the judgments of nature.” The 
desiderata which he pointed out, when he was drawing a map 
of the physical and intellectual world, in his “ De Augmentis 
Scientiarum,” have given birth to many works moulded accord¬ 
ing to the plans which he has there indicated ; whilst on the other 
hand there are still some remaining, which may serve to stimu- 


i Novum Organum. Sect. 2. Aphor. 1—7. 


* Id. Sec. 6. Aphor. 97. 





190 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


late and direct the researches of succeeding inquirers. His 
anticipations of future discoveries seem to be more the result 
of prophetic inspiration, than of any intuitive sagacity. The 
curtain of futurity appears to have been lifted up before his 
gaze— 

“ Back roll the volumy clouds, the mighty mists 

That veil the future, roll, at his bidding, back.” 

By the system of induction which he introduced, he not only 
changed the features but the very frame-work of philosophy. 
He insisted that phenomena and observation were the only 
materials of science, and that its improvement would be owing 
to industry and tact, rather than the flights of imagination, or the 
inspiration of genius. By raising axioms upon the contem¬ 
plation of individual phenomena, and tasking them again to 
the solution of others that are analogous, the inductive philo¬ 
sopher, however wide and illimitable his range of speculation 
may be, is continually narrowing the field of inquiry, and the 
ardour of investigation glows still more intensely through the 
certainty of conquest. The thoughts of ordinary writers, of the 
same length of standing, have long since been transfused into the 
texture of every-day life; but there is an ethereal spirit ema¬ 
nating from the writings of Bacon, which, though it operates at 
a distance, yet disdains to mingle itself with the common cur¬ 
rent of ideas—which, as it has been a guide for the past, will be 
a beacon to the future, radiant above the flood of time. 

“ The range (says Professor Playfair) which Bacon’s 
speculations embraced, was altogether immense. He cast a 
penetrating eye on the whole of science, from its feeblest and 
most infantine state, to that strength and perfection from which 
it was then so remote, and which it is perhaps destined to ap¬ 
proach to continually, and never to attain. * * * The history 
of human knowledge points out nobody of whom it can be said, 
that placed in the situation of Bacon, he would have done 
what Bacon did:—no man whose prophetic genius would have 
enabled him to delineate a system of science, which had not 
yet begun to exist,—who could have derived the knowledge of 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


191 


what ought to be, from what ivas not, and, who could have 
become so rich in wisdom, though he received from his predeces- 
sors no inheritance but their errors.” 1 Though the portion of 
the JVovum Organum to which we refer, from the fact of the 
subject never having been attempted before, might appear to 
anticipation at first sight, to be recondite and barren; yet, 
through that power of real genius, which is able to lay under 
contribution, the remote as well as the contiguous—to concen¬ 
trate every ray of illustration, however diverging in appear¬ 
ance, the mind is continually plunging into a fresh “ wilder¬ 
ness of thought.” The illustrations are striking ; they “ haunt 
the ear, and dwell ujDon the mind,” whilst every fresh perusal 
suggests new ideas, and superinduces a train of thought cor¬ 
respondent with the improved state of the intellectual develop¬ 
ment of the reader. “This (says Professor Stewart) is a 
characteristic of all Bacon’s writings, and is only to be ac¬ 
counted for by the inexhaustible aliment they furnish to our 
own thoughts, and the sympathetic activity they impart to our 
torpid faculties.” 2 - 

There is another thing deserving of notice.—We mean the 
address which Bacon displays in stripping the reader of his 
prejudices. He does not attempt to carry the citadel by a 
coup-de-main ;—there is no sound of the battering ram, or of 
“ armaments that thunderstrike the walls ;” but there is a pro¬ 
cess of mining and sapping gradually going on, by which the edi¬ 
fice of error is as effectually destroyed. He seems to be well 
aware of the difficulty of dissolving those associations which 
have been sanctioned by time and authority; for which, if we 
may use the expression, the mind has almost a natural affinity, 
and which have been incorporated by habit into the very elemen¬ 
tal processes of thought. “We must, therefore, (says he) assure 
mankind, from a thorough consideration and insight, both of 
things and the minds of men, that we find it almost harder to 
gain access to the mind than to things; and that we find the 
labour and difficulty of delivering not much less than discover- 


i Playfair’s Prelim. Dissert. Encyc. Brit. p. 470. 


2 Prelim. Diss. p. 36. 




192 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


/ 


ing. So that we are here obliged to practise what is almost a 
new thing in intellectual matters, complaisance, or courtship; 
and at once to bear the load, not only of our own thoughts, but 
those of other men. For the only way of subverting the idols 
of vanity, is the approaching them obsequiously ; and not by 
rushing in upon them with violence and fury. And this does 
not only happen from hence, that men are captivated with the 
admiration of authors, or swollen with their own conceits, or 
because, through custom and prejudice, they will not be impar¬ 
tial; for though a man would very gladly impose a just and 
even temper upon himself, and, as it were, forswear all preju¬ 
dice ; yet even such a disposition of mind cannot be trusted; 
for no man has a command over his own understanding, which 
depends not upon his will; nor is the spirit of the philosophers, 
any more than the spirit of the prophets, subject to those it 
reigns in.” 1 

From the novelty of the subject, and the untrodden paths 
which Bacon has opened, we might be almost tempted to sus¬ 
pect at the first glance, that, to use his own expressions, he 
had imitated the spider in spinning out his sentiments from 
his own bowels, rather than from the nature of things, were not 
such an idea continually dissipated by the soundness of his re¬ 
marks, and the propriety of his illustrations. It was by his ex¬ 
ertions, that the “ doctrine of idols ” has been enrolled as an 
indispensable phrase in metaphysical nomenclature; and that 
their importance has been shewn, not merely from^the elusive¬ 
ness of their nature, but the facility with which they associate 
with all our conceptions, and the danger that they may still 
give a tinge to the conclusions of science, in the brightest and 
purest eras that may await it. Sensible he was, that unless 
our mental faculties were properly organized—unless we were 
thoroughly imbued with this kind of contemplative prudence, 
no extent of research—no strength of mind could preserve us 
from falling into error. On the other hand, our exertions might 
only plunge us more irremediably into it; the swiftness of our 


i Novum Organum, p. 138. Note, Ed. Jones. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


193 


movements might be merely leading us farther from the object 
ot our pursuit, and we might experience all the fatigues of 
travelling without the corresponding satisfaction of having made 
any perceptible progress. He was well aware, therefore, that 
the mind was to be rectified, before new powers were communi¬ 
cated to it—that the mental mirror was to be polished, before 
it must be suffered to reflect the “ fair variety of things/’ As 
it has been well observed, if Bacon was not the first who shew¬ 
ed that we were idolaters, he was the first, who shewed us the 
extent of our idolatry. It was not the external temple of na¬ 
ture that he endeavoured to purify, but the internal one of the 
mind. The philosopher was to divest himself of all his preju¬ 
dices, before the goddess of truth would deign to unveil herself; 
as we are told, in the worship of Eastern divinities, that the 
first thing required, was the purification of the worshipper. 

5. We do not deny that many of the opinions and prejudi¬ 
ces, which Bacon has combatted or adduced in illustration of 
his propositions, may appear to a modern reader, as too flimsy 
to be met with argument, and too extravagant for refutation. 
But, however, let us at least remember, that if they are not the 
prejudices of our age, they were the prejudices of his—that, 
as soon as prejudices have once vanished, we also lose the 
power of recalling them ;—in the same manner as we are un¬ 
able to call to mind those fantastic images which our imagi¬ 
nation has conjured up in the dark, after they have been once 
irradiated with the light of reason and of heaven. But let us 
consider, on the other hand, that though we may be less igno¬ 
rant and less foolish than our predecessors, we are not, on that 
account, to conclude that we are totally destitute of ignorance 
and folly. Though we may talk about the perfection or per¬ 
fectibility of human reason—though we may fancy ourselves 
to belong to the “brave spirits who first laid the foundation of 
the empire of universal illumination—yet, for any thing that 
we know to the contrary, when we are contemplated by the 
splendour of succeeding ages, it may be discovered, that if we 
have reformed science, our reformation has rather consisted in 
an exchange of errors, than an approximation to truth—that 

Y 


194 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


our physical theories have been founded upon too slight analo¬ 
gies, or too narrow an induction; and that our intellectual dis¬ 
quisitions, with all their pretensions to refinement, have only 
been pervaded by a more elaborate vein of sophistry. When 
we say that we are not aware of our errors, we should also re¬ 
collect, that not to be sensible of their influence, is one of the 
common misfortunes of humanity. We know of no greater ser¬ 
vice that the history of philosophy is capable of performing, 
than to lead us to a re-consideration of our principles and opini¬ 
ons, and throw us back upon the evidence by which they are 
supported. If there be one man who pays more attention to 
the great names by which any system of opinions is accredited, 
than to the strength of the arguments upon which it was built, 
we can only say, that the history of philosophy will shake the 
pillars of his idolatry. Let him but hold converse with the 
towering spirits of former ages—let him see the rise of opinions, 
hypothesis after hypothesis, one system built upon the ruins of 
another, Aristotle at one time standing forward as the “boun¬ 
dary of the human understanding,” and now scarcely a single 
disciple left—at another time, Descartes effecting a total revo¬ 
lution in the philosophical world, and now standing like some 
dethroned monarch amidst the ruins of his planetary vortices; 
when, we say, he has studied the history of philosophy, extend¬ 
ing to the space of nearly five thousand years, and including 
every civilized country in the world, whether ancient or modern, 
from the remotest shores of Germany, to the farthest bounds of 
the “ celestial empire,” he may then come forward and ask us, 
with something like a good grace, where is infallibility vested ? 
and where are the legislators of all who think ? 

It would be impossible for us, in the present brief space, to 
run over all those various sources of error with which we are 
all equally infected, and of which we are all equally ignorant. 
Some are connected, we perceive, with constitutional tempera¬ 
ment, some with professional habits, and others with emotions 
that are as fleeting as they are delusive. Some sketch their 
character of opinions and systems from a favourable position, 
whilst the meridian sun is bathing every object with a flood. 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


195 


as it were, of ‘‘molten goldand others in the duskiness of twi- 
light, when nature is putting on her sober livery, and nothing 
is to be heard but the moaning of the screech-owl, and nothing 
to be seen but darkness visible. 

In our opinions of men, character, and actions, the varieties, 
and the causes of those varieties, are still more endless. Pope, 
that great analyist of the mysteries of the human character, tells 
us, that the mere shifting of the wind may have made us sound 
logicians on certain topics for life, 

“ Perhaps, prosperity becalmed our breast;— 

Perhaps, the wind just shifted from the East.” 

In another of his poetical essays, he gives what some may be 
apt to consider, as a more substantial reason for a change of 
sentiment, 

“ Ask men’s opinions:— Scoto now shall tell 
How trade increases, and the world goes well; 

Strike of his pension, by the setting sun, 

And Britain, if not Europe, is undone.” 

The inference we would draw is this:—that the history of phi¬ 
losophy, by presenting such a variety of opinions, will throw 
philosophy itself into its deepest musings, in order to account 
for a phenomenon which none can doubt, and for which we 
want nothing but a reason. By this means we shall not be 
merely able to talk about the abstract axiom “ that man is fal¬ 
lible,^ which, when considered by itself, and brought out to 
bear upon the intercourse of common life, is perfectly power¬ 
less. It is not merely by retaining in our memory such a brief 
axiom as this, but by seeing it practically exemplified upon the 
wisest that ever lived, and by taking into our consideration 
the endless sources of error with which we are surrounded; 
it is by these means, that we shall acquire that intellectual can¬ 
dour, which is almost as valuable as truth itself. This intel¬ 
lectual charity is totally different from that spurious charity 
which so often usurps its place,—which tells us in its very 
simplicity, that the blue sky bends over all,—which has its 
foundation in apathy and ignorance,—can only live amidst the 


196 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


claps of multitudes, and perishes at their frown. The charity to 
which we refer is a plant of more celestial growth, inasmuch as 
it is founded upon intellectual conviction; and it differs as 
widely from the other, as real sympathy differs from the sensi¬ 
bility of a romance, as politeness differs from a bow, or friend¬ 
ship from the shaking of hands. 


DISSERTATION. VII. 

ON LANGUAGE. 

1. On the nature of language , and the facilities which it affords 
for the unlimited transmission of thought. 2. The influence 
of the speculative spirit upon this questioti. 3. Theoretical 
histories of the primeval state of man and the world. 4. Lan¬ 
guage not the indispensable medium of actual thinking. 

1. The subject of our present dissertation is the origin of 
language; but before any direct evidence be adduced in fa¬ 
vour of any particular theory, a few brief observations may 
be premised upon the nature of language, and the benefits that 
flow from it, as a medium of communication. 

Language, if we may be allowed the expression, can be con¬ 
sidered in no other light, than as a vocabulary of facts drawn 
from the external world, or the representative of individual 
experiences. When we say that water is a “ liquid/’ we mean, 
merely, that the resistance it offers to the touch , is inferior, in 
degree, to that of many other substances with which we are 
acquainted.—When we say that any object is “ delightful,” 
we refer to an emotion which every person has felt; or, at least, 
every person who participates of the common nature of humani¬ 
ty, and has travelled through the zodiac of his own susceptibili¬ 
ties. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


197 


“Language (says a modem writer) is the record of the obser¬ 
vations of mankind on the course of nature. It is, as it were, 
a popular philosophy. Whatever may be its origin,—whether 
words be merely conventional signs, as Aristotle teaches, or 
have a foundation in the nature of things denoted by them, still 
their application to observed facts in the course of nature, is 
the result of the operation of the human mind; and words, in 
this use of them, are the creations of the intellect. The intellect 
takes up and applies the existing signs furnished by language, 
however derived, to mark and preserve for its future direction, 
the dictates of its past experience. Thus, the application of 
the term “burning” to the observed effect of fire on a combus¬ 
tible body, is an act of the mind recording its experience of that 
effect. Having recorded its experience by this term, it thence¬ 
forth uses the term as a substitute for the actual experience. 
Proceeding on that fundamental law of human belief and action, 
that all things will continue in their observed course, it trusts 
to the word thus obtained as a guide to future conduct. It is 
sufficient to say, that any thing “ burns,” to give us a represen¬ 
tation of the effect of fire, and direct us in our actions with regard 
to that thing. Accordingly, by the use of terms, observations, 
in themselves individual facts, are generalized. The term, ori¬ 
ginally the record of a single experience, serving practically in 
the stead of a repeated experience, comes to stand for a number 
of individuals. From its practical application to a multitude 
of similar events, it obtains a speculative multiplication as the 
general expression of many particulars, or, in short, becomes a 
class-term.” 1 

Hence we may perceive, that language embraces within the 
sphere of its influence, two departments of our mental system— 
the one the intellectual, and the other a department for which 
our metaphysical nomenclature has as yet made no provision; 
but which may be termed the emotional, or the pathematic. In 
the one we are capable of registering our own observations, and 
availing ourselves of those which have been accumulated by the 


iHampdenoii Aristotle’s Philosophy (Dialectics.) Encyc. Britan. 




198 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


rest of the species:—in the other we are capable of communi¬ 
cating an impulse to our fellow creatures by a communication 
of our own feelings, or of being impelled ourselves to action by 
a reciprocal transfusion.—In the one we are capable of extend¬ 
ing the empire of man over nature—of appropriating to his 
benefit whatever may tend to the improvement of the arts and 
sciences, and the external embellishment of society:—in the 
other we are able to touch those springs which actuate man as 
a moral agent—to work upon his hopes and fears—to exalt him 
to deeds of “high emprise ”—of magnanimity—of fortitude, and 
of self-denial. 

It may therefore be truly said of a written language, that it is 
emancipated from the bonds either of space or time,—that it is 
neither fettered by locality nor limited by duration. Man is 
no longer an insulated being, dependent upon his own indivi¬ 
dual energy for administering to his necessities, his comforts, 
and his luxuries. His character partakes more and more of the 
universality of the species;—his existence is multiplied and ex¬ 
tended;—he feels himself not merely to be one of the genera¬ 
tions that are passing away, but a link in that golden chain 
which embraces both the physical and the moral world—which 
binds the past to the present, and the present to the future. The 
discoveries that have been floated down from superior minds, 
devolve upon him as his natural inheritance—discoveries that 
may be modified by his own skill, that will enlarge with the ac¬ 
cumulated intellect of the species, and adapt themselves to the 
expansive powers of society. The breast of that man who first 
trusted his frail bark to the perilous elements, and beheld the 
“swimming monsters with dry eyes,” might be fortified by 
“triple brass;” but, how is our sense of human imbecility 
transmuted into a feeling of wonder and admiration, when we 
see the intrepid seaman launching one of our own vessels, bear¬ 
ing British commodities, or British thunder, to the remotest 
parts of the globe,—“ a promontory when it sleeps, a moving 
island when it swims?” 

The same remarks apply not only to the physical existence 
of man, but also to his intellectual and moral. The thoughts 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


199 


of writers that have flourished in the most distant ages, do not 
perish along with those who gave them birth. Their “ clay-cre¬ 
ators” may be of the “earth, earthy;” but they have given birth 
to that which will buffet the waves of oblivion, and “flourish in 
immortal youth.” Hence language becomes more and more the 
treasury of the diversified feelings of our common nature—more 
and more impregnated with the “goings forth ” of humanity, 
with impulses that “comprehend every class of human suscep¬ 
tibility, and fill every class that they comprehend.” “In these 
times of ours, all intellect has fused itself into literature. Liter¬ 
ature, printed thought! is the molten-sea and wonder-bearing 
chaos, into which, mind after mind casts forth its opinion—its 
feeling, to be molten into the general mass, and to work there. 
Interest after interest is engulfed in it or embarked on it!—high¬ 
er and higher it rises round all the edifices of existence;—they 
must all be molten into it, and anew bodied forth from it, or 
stand unconsumed among its fiery surges.” 1 

“The power of philosophy in fixing an impression of itself 
on the world (says Mr. Hampden), appears, when attentively 
viewed, no less than that evidenced in successful exertions of 
civil or military talents. But there is a striking difference in 
the comparative interest excited by the philosopher himself, 
and the distinguished statesman or general. The personal for¬ 
tunes of the philosopher are not connected with the effects of his 
philosophy. He has passed away from the eyes of men when 
his powerful agency begins to be perceived. * * * And at this 
day, after the lapse of twenty-one centuries from its first appear¬ 
ance, we are experiencing the power of Aristotle’s philosophy 
in its effects on language and literature, and even on theology.” 

The visions of poetry and philosophy have not perished with 
those who first called them into existence. The genius of anci¬ 
ent Greece still flits before us with all her legendary lore, and 
her train of olden poets, 

“Pouring; from the pictured urn. 

Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.”* 


1 Edinburgh Review. No. 105. p. 180. 


2 Gray. 






200 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


Ilissus seems still to be reclining on his urn, and listening to 
the sweet accents of him who taught in the Academus;—we 
still seem to hear the theatre of Bacchus resounding with lamen¬ 
tations at the tread of the Sophoclean buskin, and Demosthe¬ 
nes thundering his philippics against the enemies of his coun¬ 
try.—The voiceless shores which once gave them birth, may now 
be mute to the sounds of those undying strains which are echo¬ 
ing 

* * * “ Farther west, 

Than their Sires’ Islands of the blest.’’ 

But the heroes who are portrayed there, are still walking the 
earth, “the guardians of mortal men,” and animating them to 
the emulation of deeds of by-gone glory; 

“ Anrap ette; fxsv txto ysvog xara youct x.u\v\ fs 
Tot jucev AAIMONES Eteri .” 1 

When Herodotus was recording the battle of Marathon, 
and Demosthenes was uttering his celebrated apostrophe to the 
souls of the heroes who perished there, what an intense sensa¬ 
tion it would have excited in the historian and the orator, if they 
could have foreseen that the feelings which they were then endea¬ 
vouring to awake in the breasts of their countrymen, would be 
transmitted, unimpaired, through a series of two thousand years, 
freshening the fount of honour in the most distant regions, after 
the glory of their own country had passed away from it, and 
was only living in the recollections of those who were born 
under another sun, and nurtured in another clime! 

“The mountains look on Marathon, 

And Marathon looks on the sea, 

When musing there an hour alone, 

I dream’d that Greece might still be free; 

For standing on the Persian’s grave, 

I could not deem myself a slave.” 

Had it not been for those intellectual and moral associations 
which are indissolubly connected with it, Greece would have 


1 Hesiod’s Works and Days, line 120, &c. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


201 


affected us with no other emotions than any other country lying- 
under the same parallel of latitude, and presenting the same 
aspect in the physical configuration of its surface. But, em¬ 
balmed as she is in the writings of her poets, her historians, her 
orators, and philosophers, every hill seems to be dripping with 
Castalian dew, every fallen column speaks of her former magni¬ 
ficence, and every grotto seems to be responsive to the echoes 
of voices that are now no more. 

“Yet to the remnants of thy splendour past, 

Shall pilgrims pensive, but unwearied, throng; 

Long shall the voyager with the Ionian blast. 

Hail the bright clime of battle and of song; 

Long shall thine annals and immortal tongue, 

Fill with thy fame the youth of many a shore, 

Boast of the aged! lesson of the young! 

Which sages venerate and bards adore, 

As Pallas and the muse unveil their awful lore.” i 

“The unlimited transmission of thought (says Dr. Brown), 
which the invention of language allows, brings the universe of 
mind into that point of view, in which an eloquent living French 
author has considered the physical universe, as exhibiting at 
once all its splendid varieties of events, and uniting, as it were, 
in a single moment, the wonders of eternity. ‘ Combine (says he) 
by your imagination, all the fairest appearances of things. Sup¬ 
pose that you see at once all the hours of the day, and all the 
seasons of the year;—a morning of spring and of autumn;— 
a night brilliant with stars, and a night obscure with clouds;— 
meadows enamelled with flowers;—fields waving with harvest;— 
woods heavy with the frosts of winter; you will then have a 
just notion of the spectacle of the universe. Is it not wondrous, 
that while you are admiring the sun, who is plunging beneath 
the vault of the west, another observer is beholding him as he 
quits the regions of the east, in the same instant reposing, weary 
from the dust of the evening, and awaking fresh and youthful 
in the dews of morn ? There is not a moment of the day in 
which the same sun is not rising, shining in his zenith, and set¬ 
ting on the world; or rather our senses abuse us, and there is no 


i Byron’s Childe Harold. Canto 2. p. 91. 

Z 





202 


LTTERARY PANCRATIUM. 


rising and setting, nor zenith, nor east, nor west; but all is one 
fixed point, at which every species of light is beaming at once 

from the unalterable orb of day/ 

“In like manner, if I may venture to consider the phenomena 
of the mind in the same fanciful point of view, every moment 
may be said to be exhibiting the birth, and progress, and decay 
of thought. Infancy, maturity, old age, and death, are mingled, 
as it were, in one universal scene. The opinions which are 
perishing in one mind, are rising in another; and often, perhaps 
at the last fading ray of the lamp of genius that may have al¬ 
most dazzled the world with excess of brilliancy, some star may 
be kindling, which is to shine upon the intellectual universe 
with equal light and glory :— 

‘ Flowers of the sky; ye, too, to age must yield, 

Frail as your silken sisters of the field! 

Star after star from heaven’s high arch shall rush;— 

Suns sink on suns, and systems systems crush; 

Headlong, extinct, to one dark centre fall, 

And death, and night, and chaos, mingle all! 

# * # * 

Till o’er the wreck, emerging from the storm, 

Immortal nature lifts her changeful form. 

Mounts from her funeral pyre on wings of flame, 

And soars and shines—another and the same.’ ” i 

2. If the uses of language be thus sweet and marvellous, it need 
excite very little surprise, when we find that the question con¬ 
cerning its origin has been very keenly agitated amongst the 
learned, and as keenly contested. We all know, that, according 
to the established order of nature at present, we acquire a know¬ 
ledge of language by imitation and instruction, and that we are 
ignorant of it, as of any thing else, in proportion to the faulti¬ 
ness of our examples, and the deficiency of our education. But 
as the series of generations has not been eternal, the question 
still recurs, whence has it derived its origin ? Is it to be ascrib¬ 
ed to the miraculous interposition of the Diety, or is it the result 
of the natural development of the human mind, as operated upon 


1 Philosophy of the Human Mind. vol. 1. p. 424— 6.—Darwin’s Botanic 
Garden. Canto 4. v. 371—80. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


203 


by its position ancl wants ? Was it an endowment conferred 
upon man at the very dawn of his being, or was it left to the 
elaboration of his own faculties, and those of his descendants? 
Is it a discovery that is placed beyond the grasp of the human 
intellect, or one that lies level to its capacities ? 

As it is allowed on all hands, that the question cannot be set 
at rest by any direct or precise information, and consequently, 
that all reasoning upon it, as an historical fact, must be merely 
inferential, it is manifest that a sufficient scope is left for variety 
of opinions, and latitude of theory. If we say that its origin is 
divine, we must acknowledge that all our inquiries are termina¬ 
ted.:—The avenue is immediately closed to all discussion.—No 
investigation is required, where nothing further can be known; 
and men may be permitted to be indolent, where labour is use¬ 
less. Hopeless and spiritless as such a creed may appear, we 
confess that it is our own, whilst at the same time, candour 
obliges us to acknowledge, that we can give to a coterie of phi¬ 
losophers no other equivalent in exchange for their theories, 
than that they should sit like the shadowy tea-party of Words¬ 
worth, 

“ All silent and all dumb. ” 

But the world will be occasionally visited by spirits of nobler 
daring and more enterprising genius. The monotonous round 
of our intellectual existence, will be enlivened, ever and anon, 
by men of a superior calibre; and philosophers, who have once 
got it into their head, that they ought to leave behind them an 
inheritance of opinions, will be very loath to go to bed “ with 
the title-deeds in their stomachs/” An inquiry that holds out 
the prospect of an arena for unlimited discussion, and dispenses 
with any of those troublesome tests by which the truth of our 
lucubrations may be tried, is of too tempting a nature not to 
allure literary adventurers. Though truth may be simple, yet 
errors are multiform. Those who strike into the region of para¬ 
dox, very frequently fancy that their thoughts are merely origi¬ 
nal; and, as error begets error, they are very apt to draw con¬ 
clusions from their originality in favour of their importance. 


204 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


In vain is it to endeavour to persuade men, that what they have 
been at so much pains in acquiring, is not an acquisition. “ They 
attach themselves to an opinion in proportion to the sacrifice 
which they have made, and estimate its value by the labour 
which it has cost them.” What formerly was but the indefinite 
aspirations of their intellectual nature, acquires form and con¬ 
sistency; and what was once but the offspring of imagination, 
stands in a very fair way for promotion, and being adopted by 
the judgment. When Descartes was contemplating his 
planetary vortices and his other chimeeras , he was perhaps only 
thinking what he, from his limited knowledge of nature, would 
have done in similar circumstances; but if that was the case, it 
was not long before he offered his services for the formation and 
constitution of the world. Other opinions might be mentioned, 
but there is no necessity; being heterogeneous in their nature, 
they do not mix with the common current of knowledge. True 
it is, that they are borne along upon its current; but they ap¬ 
pear merely as monuments of the ramjDancy of hypothesis, and 

v 

the hardihood of speculation;— 

“Like the flag floating, when the bark’s engulfed.” 

We are almost tempted to believe that the philosophic ten¬ 
dencies to which we are alluding, have exerted, as in many other 
cases, a seducing influence upon speculations on the origin of 
language. For a profound thinker to write upon a subject 
where profundity will be of very little service;—for a man of 
genius to discuss a question where the inspiration of genius is 
not demanded, is, of a truth, sufficiently provoking. The “ old 
Adam” of metaphysical inquiry will gradually creep upon them. 
That which is plain by nature, must be made tortuous by rea¬ 
soning; and that which is clear without comment, must be ob¬ 
scured by erudition. “ It is only in geometry, that we readily 
allow a straight line to be the shortest that can be drawn between 
two points. In the physics of mind, or of matter, we are far 
from allowing this. We prefer to it almost any curve that is 
presented to us by others, and without all doubt, any curve 
which we have described ourselves; and we boldly maintain. 


LITEIIAllY PANCRATIUM. 


205 


and which is yet more, fairly believe, that we have found out 
a shorter road, merely because in our philosophical peregrina¬ 
tion, we have chosen to journey many miles about, and in our 
delight of gazing on new objects, have never thought of measur¬ 
ing the ground which we have trod.” 1 It is thus that we with¬ 
draw ourselves from the majestic simplicity of nature, and coop¬ 
ing ourselves up in our little worlds, we mistake the suggestions 
of our intellect for the oracles of truth; and the phantasmago¬ 
ria of our own imagination for the microcosm in which she is re¬ 
presented. 

3. The theoretical and conjectural history of laws, languages, 
arts, and sciences, has been eagerly agitated amongst the literati 
of the Continent; and the progress which it has made in this 
country, is very creditable to the acuteness of those who have 
embarked their talents and energies on undertakings of this cha¬ 
racter. As an exercise of the mental faculties in observing the 
hypothetical gradations of discovery, nothing can be more en¬ 
tertaining ; and, at the same time, we will further allow, that it 
may be accepted as a substitute for history, where history is 
wanting, though not as an equivalent. Its chief merit seems to 
consist in individualizing the history of the species;—in the op¬ 
portunities which it affords for analyzing the phenomena of the 
human mind, as they originate and succeed each other from 
certain points of view, and in a given position. Reasoning of 
this kind, though not strictly applicable to the case of an indivi¬ 
dual, is still less applicable to the case of society. The order of 
nature is not the order of invention; and the method which we 
would adopt in teaching a science, is not that in which it was 
discovered. The progress of society, when taken in the mass, 
cannot be determined or accounted for upon any concatenated 
principles of intellectual logic. We may be well acquainted 
with the principles of human nature in the abstract, but we 
cannot argue from our knowledge of them to a determination of 
the phases which they will exhibit, or the forms which they will 
take amidst the complex movements, and the multitudinous tur- 


1 Brown’s Philosophy of the Human Mind. Vol. 1. p. 155. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


20(> 

moils of social life. Society does not develop its powers according 
to any fixed law; though we may perceive all the elements that 
are at work, yet no man can foretel the result. Much must be 
left to necessity, which knoweth no law;—to chance, which is the 
negation of any rationale or established order;—and to circum¬ 
stance, that most “unspiritual god,” which miscreateth all things. 

The point, however, upon which we are at issue, is not connect¬ 
ed with any of those varieties of opinion which may exist in the 
different theoretical histories of the origin and formation of lan¬ 
guage. What degrees of probability they may joossess;—how 
near they may be supposed to approximate to the facts of the 
case, must be left to the decision of those who have adopted the 
opinion. Questions of this kind can have no place, if we admit 
that the ordinary deductions of the intellect have been super¬ 
seded by supernatural instruction. Theoretical history, never¬ 
theless, may still be pursued as an innocent speculation—as a 
classification of the elements of language, upon a scale, gradua¬ 
ted according to the order in which they may be supposed to 
be the most easily comprehended, if not discovered, by the men¬ 
tal faculties. “Before proceeding farther, (says Mr. Stewart, 
in his inquiries upon this subject) it is necessary to remark, that 
the object of the problem now mentioned, is not to ascertain an 
historical fact, but to trace the natural procedure of the mind in the 
use of artificial signs. In this speculation, therefore, it is not to be 
understood, that we mean to prejudge the question, whether lan¬ 
guage be, or be not, the result of immediate Revelation ? but only 
to trace the steps which men left entirely to themselves, would 
be likely to follow in their first attempts to communicate their 
ideas to each other.” 1 From what he says afterwards, it is evi¬ 
dent, that he considers the human faculties as competent to the 
formation of language, and he seems very desirous to draw a 
conclusion from their competence in favour of the fact. “Thus, 
although (says he) it is impossible to determine, with certainty, 
what the steps were by which any particular language was 
formed, yet, if we can shew, from the known principles of 


1 Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind. Vol. 3. p. 26. Ed. 4to. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


207 


human nature, how all its various parts might gradually have 
arisen, the mind is not only to a certain degree satisfied, but a 
check is given to that indolent philosophy which refers to a mira¬ 
cle whatever appearances both in the natural and moral worlds, 
it is unable to explain.” 1 

If the theoretical history of languages, and the formation of 
Society, be no longer looked on as a mere intellectual 
but as offering an explanation of facts which are supposed to 
require an explanation; then, perhaps it may be well, before we 
proceed any further, to rectify a mistake from which most of the 
errors upon this subject seem to have emanated. It has been 
assumed amongst modern, as well as ancient philosophers, that 
man ivas originally in a savage state —an assumption, which, 
though it has been almost looked upon as an a priori conclusion, 
wanting neither proof nor comment, is yet unsupported by any 
arguments, and founded upon no facts drawn from history, 
whether sacred or profane. Strange indeed it is, that philoso¬ 
phers, and especially Christian philosophers, should patronize a 
miserable blunder, which was first stumbled upon by the Greek 
and Latin writers, who, in the present case, mistook their own 
fancies for matter of fact, and discarded that broader subtratum 
of truth which was to be found in the mythological histories of 
the earliest ages. Diodorus Siculus might suppose that the 
first men lived for some time in the woods and caves, like the 
beasts, uttering only confused and inarticulate sounds; but we 
should have expected that Christian philosophers would have 
elevated them from the degraded condition of all but walking 
upon all-four. If malignity had guided our pen, we might 
have been almost tempted to say, that the advocacy of such an 
opinion implies a criminal neglect of better sources of informa¬ 
tion; but perhaps we should form a more accurate idea of it, if 
we were to look upon it as an apology for the introduction of 
those splendid theories and self-cogitated systems of which their 
authors were desirous of being delivered. 

“The Mosaic records (says Mr. Douglas) secure us from an 


i Biographical Memoirs of Smith, Robertson, and Reid. Ed. 1811. p. 48. 



208 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


error into which philosophers, who trust more to their own con¬ 
jectures than to the Bible, have generally fallen. It is requisite, 
for clearness and precision, to reduce every thing to its simplest 
elements, and from its least modified state, to enumerate the 
changes it undergoes, and the additions it receives. But what 
is allowable in a work of which the sole aim is simplicity, may 
be very erroneous when considered as a matter of fact. And 
though in a treatise which accommodates itself to an arbitrary 
method, and not to the truth of events, mankind may be repre¬ 
sented as passing from the occupation of hunters to that ol 
shepherds, and then from pasturage to tillage, and a life in 
cities; yet the error is great if we mistake the process of our 
own minds for the progress of the human race, and imagine 
that men must have first existed as savages, because the savage 
state stands at the head of our own artificial system. 

“That society is retrograde was always the favourite and 
most prevalent side of the question: the creeds of all nations 
teem with recollections of men having fallen from a higher state 
of felicity,—of earth being blended with heaven, and of that 
golden age when humanity lived near to the gods, and held 
frequent and familiar intercourse with the immortals. This 
opinion may be styled the mythological, since it is interwoven 
with the recollections of the remotest antiquity, blended with 
the light of the heroic and fabulous ages, and wrought into all 
the various fictions which diversify the legends of polytheism. 
It is carried to the greatest height in the Hindoo writings, but 
more or less it has prevailed among all nations, and has been 
handed down with an increase of conviction and fresh argu- 
ments, from the respect which learners bear to their teachers— 
stamped with the reverence which the Grecians paid to their 
Egyptian masters—the Romans to the Grecians, and the middle 
ages to the Romans .” 1 

We do not deny that savages exist in the world, but we are 
at a loss to conceive how it was the original state of man, and at 
a much greater loss to conceive for what reasons, if it had been 


x Advancement of Society, p. 10.—4—5. 3rd Ed. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


209 


the case, it was pronounced “very good.” We do not deny 
that the savage state did exist in the early ages of the world, 
but we are inclined to consider it as a retrogression from the 
primitive state of society, and that men became barbarous in 
proportion as they addicted themselves more to the chace than 
to agriculture, preferring the love of adventure and of predatory 
enterprise, to a cultivation of domestic habits and a taste for ru¬ 
ral contemplation. Those who are looking out for great lights in 
the savage state, may perhaps have the mortification of seeing 
them vanish in smoke; and those who are intent upon marking 
their transition from one state to another, may perhaps find that 
their progress has been always in a circle. Where the animal 
appetites are predominant, and where the physical necessities 
are the only ones that take hold of the active powers, it need 
excite very little surprise, if their intellectual faculties should be 
dormant, and if they should live and vegetate like 

* * * “ The fat weed 

That rots on Lethe’s wharf.” * * 

True it is, we may be told that this is a section from that 
“ indolent philosophy ” to which we have attached ourselves; 
but writers, who “ bandy ” hard names, very frequently com¬ 
plain that their monopoly is invaded. 

Ecm yug a^orspoiaiv ovel^ecc jut-uOncrscrSca 
TloXXoc [juzX’, aci’av vrivg Exocrov^vyog a^dog czpoiro. 

That may be called a “degrading” philosophy, which enlists 
the oriainal state of man into the service of Lord Monboddo 
and his monkeys, and that may be called a “foolish” philoso¬ 
phy, which spends its energies in attempting the impossible. 

A fondness for their own opinions has sometimes betrayed our 
opponents into a nervous anxiety, lest we should be too lavish 
of the Divine interposition, and miracles should not be properly 
economized. We do not deny that there may exist a supersti¬ 
tious orthodoxy, as well as a philosophic scepticism; and we 
leave to their respective advocates to decide which has been the 
greatest gullery of the world. For our own parts, we are in¬ 
clined to think that the two extremes very frequently meet, and 


210 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


that believing’ too much, and believing too little, as they origi¬ 
nate from the same principle of credulity, often land their fol¬ 
lowers in one common result. On the one hand, there may be 
men who think that every thing is miraculous which is above 
their comprehension; whilst, on the other hand, there are men 
who task themselves to the solution of questions to which they 
are not adequate, and leave one absurdity to be explained by 
another. To philosophers of this class, who are capable of dis¬ 
coursing de omni scibili et quibusdam aliis, we would take the 
liberty of recommending the discussion of the following problem 
by Rousseau:— “Whether a society already formed was more 
necessary for the institution of language, or a language already 
invented for the establishment of society ?” It is not enough to 
quote with Mr. Stewart the “ short and luminous aphorism of 
Montesquieu/-* that “man is born in society, and there he re¬ 
mains;” for we should find it equally difficult to explain what 
would be the nature of that society which should be constituted 
without language, and without those laws, arts, and sciences, of 
which language is the medium through which they operate. 

We agree with our opponents, that the Divine interposition is 
not to be resorted to, unless in cases of evident necessity; but we 
do not agree with them in thinking that, in the present case, it 
is to be considered as a mere asylum for ignorance, or that 
mental imbecility which retires from the contest before it has 
grappled with the enemy. “On a subject,” we are told, “the 
causes of which are so remote, nothing is more convenient than 
to refer them to Inspiration, and to recur to that easy and com¬ 
prehensive argument, 

* * AIOS STtXtlST0 [3 &\yi’ 

That is, man enjoyed the great privilege of speech, which dis¬ 
tinguished him at first, and still continues to distinguish him as 
a rational creature, so eminently from the brute creation, with¬ 
out exerting those reasoning faculties, by which he was in other 
respects enabled to raise himself so much above their level, 
inspiration, then, seems to have been an argument adopted and 
made necessary by the difficulty of accounting for it otherwise; 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


21 1 

and the name ol Inspiration carries with it an awfulness which 
forbids the unhallowed approach of inquisitive discussion .” 1 It 
certainly bears hard upon the perspicacity of those who cannot 
see the force of the arguments that are employed by our oppo¬ 
nents; and if they possess any perspicacity, it runs a risk of 
being converted into prejudice, should it imagine that there 
must be some mistake at the bottom. Our adversaries cannot 
complain, however, of a want of latitude in their researches. 
We allow them to discard from their theories all regard to his- 
torical facts and the phases which society at present exhibits;— 
we do not bind them strictly to tell us what has been, but mere¬ 
ly what may have been;—we allow them to launch into the 
region of contingency, to call into existence states of society 
which the world has never experienced, and to make men meta¬ 
physical reasoners , 2 when they were susceptible only of physi¬ 
cal impressions;—in a word, we have allowed them “ ample room 
and verge enough ” to work their will, if that will could have 
been worked. If, therefore, in spite of all this, the question still 
remains as it was, impregnable to metaphysical ingenuity, and 
unexplained by a refined analysis, we shall certainly consider it 
as no condescension to our capacities, if they rest contented with 
a conclusion, expressive of their ignorance of every thing but 
the mere fact:—that language exists, they know not why, and 
they know not how. 

But what, after all, are those insurmountable difficulties that 
beset our inquiries, upon the supposition that we should em¬ 
brace the rather unfashionable doctrine, that the “inspiration of 
the Almighty has given us” language as well as “ understand¬ 
ing?” Shall we not adopt it, because it is an opinion that can 
be shewn to be untenable, and its non-necessity demonstrated by 
a deeper philosophy—by juster views of the development and 


1 Essay on the Study of Antiquities, by Dr. Burgess. 2nd Ed. p. 86. 

2 Mr. Stewart censures D’Alembert for “representing men, in the 
earliest infancy of science, before they had time to take any precautions for 
securing the means of their subsistence or their safety,—as philosophizing on 
their sensations, on the existence of their own bodies, and on that of the ma¬ 
terial world.” 




212 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


grasp of the mental faculties, and the unerring progress of soci¬ 
ety—by historical facts, and by inductive reasoning? Shall we 
not adopt it, because it can be proved to be agreeable to the 
character of the Deity, to place man, at the very threshold of 
existence, on the frontiers of light and darkness,—partaking of 
the one by the excellence of his nature, and of the other by the 
darkness of his condition? Or, shall we not adopt it, because it 
can be proved to be an anomaly in the Divine administration— 
because it is a circumstance which cannot, with any degree of 
propriety, be inserted amongst the creative acts of the Deity— 
because it is repulsive to all our notions of his benevolence, and 
that intellectual education which would be vouchsafed to man, 
when God was his instructor, and his revealing energy the 
source of his ideas ? 

Though it might be difficult to meet with persons who would 
avow in so many words, that the world was not created by an 
Almighty and an All-wise Being; yet it is not very difficult to 
meet with persons who manifest a tendency to relapse into 
confused notions about that intermediate agency which subsists 
betwixt the Deity and the universe, as if it was something of 
a plastic nature, which he could neither regulate nor modify. 
Our ideas have been so wedded by habit and observation to the 
established order of nature, that we are almost tempted to ima¬ 
gine that there must be some necessary connexion betwixt causes 
and effects, as a medium, over which the Divine Being has no 
control, and through which he must operate, in giving effect to 
his volitions. Necessary it may be, when we consider them as 
parts of a system, which is acted upon by a Divine impulse; 
but it is a necessity which taketli not hold of him who “ sitteth 
upon the circle of the earth—best adapted it may be; but to 
suppose it to be the only one that might have been established, 
is derogatory to his omnipotence, and a mistake that originates 
in our own ignorance. 

Though there may be no danger of recalling the system of 
Epicurus from the “vasty deep,” yet there is a danger of re¬ 
viving it under a more imposing form, and with a more modern 
nomenclature. We are so inclined to reason from what we do 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


213 


see to what we have not seen, from the present system of nature 
to what took place before it was established, that, in our most 
sober investigations, we feel an inclination to amalgamate the 
one with the other. “ In the beginning God created the heavens 
and the earth.” It was immediately perceived, that the sacred 
historian had not mentioned the method in which the earth was 
created, or the processes which it underwent during the time of 
its formation; and geologists began to think that there would be 
some merit in supplying the deficiency. The theory of a chao¬ 
tic ocean holding all the material elements in a state of solution, 
was recalled from the “ limbo ” of the ancient philosophers. 
Then came philosophic fancies, like sick men’s dreams;—the 
fragments of ancient mythology were raked together;—poetry 
was turned into philosophy, and the hyle 1 of the Greeks was 
placed in juxta-position with the tohu vabohu 2 of Moses. Then 
came ponderous dissertations about chaotic cosmogonies—che¬ 
mical affinities—laws of precipitation and crystalization—amor¬ 
phous paste, and the successive epochs and revolutions of the 
globe. The minds of men were enlarged with a sudden and 
unexpected liberty;—their ideas became vague and indefinite 
by roaming through the impalpable inane and that unassignable 
series of ages, which were allowed to the elements of all things, 
working and weltering in the primeval mass. 

In the train of a hoodwinked philosophy, came a few di¬ 
vines—all trepidation, and all concession—apprehensive, for¬ 
sooth, lest the philosophers should take up the fiddles, and begin 
to play the “ Rogue’s March.” They could see no reason why 
they should be greedy of time—why the “ beginning ” should 
begin at the time which was usually assigned to it; and if that 
was the case, they could see no reason why they should stick 
strictly to the letter, and needlessly “ quarrel with a fellow-mor¬ 
tal.” Did Moses, say they, ever intend to teach philosophy, 
and is he, therefore, to be tried by a philosophical standard ? 
Might not the first verse in the chapter be considered as the 
statement of a fact which took place a thousand years before 


i “ Primeval matter.” 


2 “ Without form and void.” 





214 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


the commencement of the operations which are detailed in the 
succeeding verses?—Might not the term “day” be extended to 
an indefinite duration, of which we have no conception, since 
there was no sun at that time by which it could be accurately 
measured? or did Moses ever intend more than to fix the anti¬ 
quity of the species, and leave the antiquity of the globe a free 
subject for the speculations of philosophers? Thus all obstacles 
were surmounted, and a rampant philology was seen rendering 
its assistance to a stolid philosophy in frittering away the mean¬ 
ing of the sacred historian. Instead of boldly denying the 
validity of their conclusions, when they reasoned from the ob¬ 
servation of geological phenomena to the fact of the first geolo¬ 
gical formations;—instead of doing this, the theory was allowed 
to go forth unrefuted, and the critical interpretation of Scripture 
was supposed to be in accordance with the geological induction. 

“If a bone of the first created man (says Mr. Granville 
Penn) now remained, and were mingled with other bones per¬ 
taining to a generated race; and, if it were to be submitted to 
the inspection and examination of an anatomist, what opinion 
and judgment would its sensible phenomena suggest, respecting 
the mode of its first formation, and what would be his conclu¬ 
sion ? If he were unapprised of its true origin, his mind would 
see nothing in its sensible phenomena, but the laws of ossifica¬ 
tion; just as the mineral geology sees nothing in the details of 
the formation of minerals, but precipitations, crystalizations, 
and dissolutions . 1 He would, therefore, naturally pronounce 
of this bone, as of all other bones, that its ‘ fibres were originally 
soft,’ until, in the shelter of the maternal womb, it acquired the 
‘hardness of a cartilage, and then of bone;’ that this effect was 
not ‘ produced at once, or in a very short time/ but ‘ by degrees/ 
that, after birth, it increased in hardness ‘ by the continual ad¬ 
dition of ossifying matter, until it ceased to grow at all/ 

“ Physically true as this reasoning would appear, it would 
nevertheless be morally and really false. Why should it be false ? 
Because it concluded from mere sensible phenomena to the 


1 D’Aubisson, 1 . p. 326—7. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


215 


certainty of a fact, which could not be established by the evi¬ 
dence of sensible phenomena alone; namely, the mode of the 
first formation of the substance of created bone.” 

To proceed, “ if a portion of the first created tree now remain¬ 
ed, and if a section of its wood were to be mingled with other 
sections of propagated trees, and submitted to the inspection and 
examination of a naturalist, what opinion and judgment would 
its sensible phenomena suggest to him, respecting the mode of 
its first formation, and what would be his conclusion? If he 
were unapprised of its true origin, his mind would see nothing- 
in its sensible phenomena, but the laws of lignification; just as 
the mineral geologist ‘ sees nothing in the details of the formation 
of primitive rock, but precipitations, crystalizations, and dissolu¬ 
tions/ He would, therefore, naturally pronounce of it, as of all 
the other sections of wood, that its ‘ fibres/ when they first issued 
from the seed, ‘ were soft and herbaceous/ that 'they did not 
suddenly pass to the hardness of perfect wood/ but ‘ after many 
yearsthat the hardness of their folds, ‘ which indicate the 
growth of each year/ was therefore effected only ‘by degrees 
and that, since nature does nothing but by a progressive course, 
it is not surprising that its substance acquired its hardness ‘only 
by little and little/ 

“ Physically true as the naturalist here would appear to rea¬ 
son; yet his reasoning, like that of the anatomist, would be 
morally and really false. And why would it be false? For the 
same reason; because he concluded from mere sensible pheno¬ 
mena to the certainty of a fact, which could not be established 
by the evidence of sensible phenomena alone; namely, the 
mode of the first formation of the substance of created wood. 

“ In proceeding with our comparison, let us consider the first 
created rock, as we have considered the first created bone and 
wood; and let us ask, what is rock in its nature and composition ? 

“ To this question mineralogy replies, ‘ By the word rock, we 
mean every mineral mass of such bulk as to be regarded an 
essential part of the structure of the globe . 1 We understand 


1 D’Aubisson, 1 p. 272. 







216 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


by the word mineral, a natural body, inorganic, solid, homoge¬ 
neous, that is composed of integrant molecules of the same sub¬ 
stance . 1 We may perhaps pronounce, that a mass is essential, 
when its displacement would occasion the downfall of other 
masses that are placed upon it . 2 Such are those lofty and 
ancient mountains, the first and most solid bones, as it were, of 
this globe,— les 'premiers, les plus solides ossemens, —which have 
merited the name of primitive; because, scorning all support, 
and all foreign mixture, they repose always upon bases similar 
to themselves, and comprise within their substance no matter, 
but of the same nature . 3 These are the primordial mountains, 
which traverse our continents in various directions, rising above 
the clouds, separating the basins of rivers one from another, 
serving, by means of their eternal snows, as reservoirs for feed¬ 
ing the springs, and forming, in some measure, the skeleton, or, 
as it were, the rough frame-work of the earth . 4 These primitive 
masses are stamped with the character of a formation altogether 
crystaline, as if they were really the product of a tranquil pre¬ 
cipitation / 5 

“ Had the mineral geology contented itself with this simple 
mineralogical statement, we should have thus argued concern¬ 
ing the crystaline phenomena of the first mineral formations; 
conformably to the principles which we have recognized. As the 
bone of the first man, and the wood of the first tree, whose soli¬ 
dity was essential for ‘ giving shape, firmness, and support * to 
their respective systems, were not, and could not have been, 
formed by the gradual processes of ossification and lignification, 
of which, nevertheless, they must have exhibited the sensible 
phenomena, or apparent indications; so reason directs us to 
conclude, that primitive rock, whose solidity was essential for 
giving shape, firmness, and support to the mineral system of 
this globe, was not, and could not have been, formed by the 
gradual processes of precipitation and crystalization, notwith¬ 
standing any sensible phenomena, apparently indicative of those 


1 D’Aubisson, 1. p. 271. 2 Ibid. 272. 3 Saussure Voyages des Alpes, 

Disc. Prelim, p. 6—7. 4 Cuvier, Sec. 7. p. 39. 5 D’Aubisson, 2. p. 5. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


‘217 


processes which it may exhibit; but that, in the mineral kingdom, 
as in the animal and vegetable kingdoms, the creating Agent 
anticipated in its formation, by an immediate act, effects, whose 
sensible phenomena could not determine the mode of their 
formation; because the real mode was in direct contradiction 
to the apparent indication of the phenomena .” 1 

The train of argument, which is so forcibly developed in the 
preceding passages, with respect to our physical system, is as 
applicable to that intellectual system which sprang, along with 
it, into existence. Man did not come into the world with a 
go-cart and leading-strings, to gaze upon a raree-show, and to 
babble forth the abortive language of a nursery. In his case all 
the ordinary processes of nature were superseded, and he stood 
forth, the lord of the universe, in his full dimensions, and the 
most perfect physical symmetry. His intellect, too, was on a cor¬ 
responding scale with his corporeal structure. It did not acquire 
vigour by such regular gradations as we observe at present;—it 
was not built up according to any of the elementary processes 
of education, neither did it derive all its ideas from the mere 
contemplation of sensible phenomena, according to the absurd 
axiom of French philosophy, “ that there is nothing in the un¬ 
derstanding, but what has been in the senses.” The ancient 
mythologists seem to have adumbrated the truth of the matter, 
when they tell us, that the first man was animated with fire 
stolen from the ethereal regions; for certain it is, that from 
thence he drew not merely the principle, but the very pabulum 
of his intellectual existence. Hence his understanding was 
accurate, yet discursive, bold, manly, and energetic—an under¬ 
standing that would suffer nothing by the comparison, if it was 
brought into j uxta-position with the tiny intellects of some of 
his descendants, who, even in these latter ages of the world, still 
seem to feel a lingering wish 

* * “ To do their sire some wrong.” 2 


i Comparative Estimate of the Mineral and Mosaic Geologies. 

2 “We have this further evidence of that height of knowledge which must 
be supposed in the first man, that as he was the first in his kind, so he was to 





218 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


To consider the gift of language, therefore, as an insulated 
fact, and an unaccountable interposition of the Divine Being, 
may serve a particular theory, but cannot be looked upon as an 
accurate view of the question. Considered in a proper point 
of view, far from being a monstrous anomaly, and unconnected 
with other circumstances, it belongs to a continuous series of 
acts, which involve the same rationale, and were the results of 
the same creating energy, which superseded the ordinary laws 
of causation,—which “ spake, and it was done,—which com¬ 
manded, and it stood fast.” If we allow that man came into 
existence, with the intellect and the sympathies of humanity 
ripened into full maturity, what ground can we occupy, if we deny 
to him the power of communicating the reasonings of his intellect, 
and giving birth to the out-pourings of his sympathies ? True, we 
are told, that the human faculties are adequate to the invention 
of language, and if so, that there is no reason why they should 
not have been exerted in inventing it, or, in other words, there 
is no reason why that should have been done for man, which 
man could have done for himself! The latter argument is not 
quite valid. It would almost be as reasonable to inquire, why 
man was not originally created of an infantine stature—why the 
ordinary processes of growth and nutrition were superseded, or, 
in the words of the objection, why that was “done for the body, 
which the body could have done for itself.” But to *ake hold 
of the other horn of the dilemma, we are not quite certain whe¬ 
ther the human faculties are adequate to the invention of lan¬ 
guage. No historical proofs are extant in favour of the theory. 
Our opponents can bring forward no accounts of any civilized 
nation, or any tribe of savages, in any age or country, that were 
ever destitute of this acquisition; and the only question which 
could decide it, is the question at issue. As matter of fact. 


be the standard and measure of all that followed, and therefore could not 
want any of the due perfections of human nature. 5 ’—“ There was not then 
so vast a difference between the angelical and human life: the angels and 
men both fed on the same dainties: all the difference was, they were in the 
V7TEp uov, the upper room in heaven, and man in the summer parlour in para¬ 
dise.”— Stillingfi.eet’s Origines Sacrse. Vol. 1. p.3—4. 




LITE It A R Y PA N C RATI U M. 


219 


therefore, cannot be appealed to in behalf of the theory, what 
evidence can be given lor the abstract possibility P 

“Scripture (says Dr. Burgess) is silent on the means by 
which language was acquired. We are not therefore warranted 
to affirm, that it was received by inspiration. On this side, then, 
of the question, we have nothing but uncertainty;” and he 
might have added, on the other, the uncertainty is equal; or 
rather, the uncertainty on the one side is counterbalanced by 
improbability on the other. Numerous are the points on which 
our first parents would require to be instructed with respect to 
the preservation of animal life; and equally numerous are the 
points on which they would require to be instructed as intelli¬ 
gent beings, and bound by a law of moral obligation; yet all 
these are passed over in silence, as well as the origin of language. 
The omission, in such a rapid sketch as that in Genesis, cannot 
be construed into a negation. If, on the one hand, we see no 
account of man having received it by Divine Inspiration, on the 
the other, we see no account of him having acquired it by the 
exertion of his own mental faculties,—of launching into the 
region of dialectics, and fighting his way through the “gins and 
traps of hypercritical grammarians.”—Though we see no account 
of all this, yet we find him conversing with God, and giving to 
each animal its particular name—a fact which, let it be observed, 
took place before the creation of his wife, and, therefore, before he 
felt the necessity of inventing it by his position in society, if his 
position, as a social being, be considered as the principle to which 
it owes its development, and we are certainly acquainted with no 
other! Instead, therefore, of thinking that there is nothing but 
uncertainty on this side of the question, we are of opinion that 
the primd facie evidence of the history is strongly in favour of 
it. “ Certain it is from the history of the creation (says Bishop 
Walton), 1 that the first language altogether emanated from Di¬ 
vine instruction; and that he who created the souls of our first 


1 “ Unde Gen. 2. ubi legimus, Adamum factum esse animam viventem, 
Onkelos paraplirastes reddit, Spiritum loquentem.” Prolegomena ad Bibl. 
Polygl. 





220 


LITE It AllY PANCRATIUM. 


parents, not as mere tabula rasce, but furnished with the know¬ 
ledge of things—certain it is, that he inspired them with the 
knowledge of language, without which, the knowledge of things 
would have been of very little service.” 

One of the arguments which has been brought forward in 
favour of the Divine origin of language, if it had been as con¬ 
clusive as its advocates have imagined it to be, would have ren¬ 
dered every further agitation of the question useless. It has been 
contended, that man cannot think without language, and that 
words are an indispensable medium, not merely for communi¬ 
cating, but for developing even to ourselves, the interior func¬ 
tions of our reasoning faculties. “ It is by the help of words 
(says WollastonJ, at least in a great measure, that we even 
reason and discourse within ourselves, as well as communicate 
our thoughts and discourse with others; and, if anyone observes 
himself, he will find that he thinks as well as speaks in some 
language, and that in thinking, he supposes and runs over, vio¬ 
lently and habitually, those sounds which, in speaking, he actu¬ 
ally makes. In short, words seem to be, as it were, bodies or vehicles 
to the sense or meaning, which is the spiritual part; and which, 
without the other, can hardly be fixed in the mind. Let any 
man try ingenuously, whether he can think over but that short 
prayer in Plato (Alcib . 2). Tap sa-Oxa. k. t. a. abstracted quite 
from those and all other words .” 1 “ It therefore appears (says 
Mr. Ellis) that the mind can have no other object of thought 
but words and names; which, therefore, must be prior to recol¬ 
lection, reflection, or any mode of thinking. And it is as great 
an absurdity to say, that a man without reason could create 
language for the instrument of reason, as that he could create a 
world for himself, before he was in being .” 2 


1 Religion of Nature delineated, p. 123. 4to. Ed. 1724. “ Thus we have 
(says Parkhurst) weiv ev eccvtco or ev rri Kapha,, which is equivalent to the 
Hebrew phrase, ‘to say in one’s heart.’ “ Speaking and thinking are fre¬ 
quently expressed by one word. Comp. in Homer. Forster informs 
us of savages in the South Sea, who use the phrase to speak in the belly for to 
think” Gesenius’ Heb. Lex. sub voce. 

2 Knowledge of Divine things from Revelation. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM, 22i 

We would not affect to be insensible to the merits of’language, 
as an instrument in developing and giving fixity to our ideas. 
Language, we have already observed, can be considered in no 
other light than as a popular philosophy of nature; and in 
proportion as it becomes more philosophical, in the same pro¬ 
portion may it be regarded as introducing us to a more intimate 
acquaintance with her arcana. The language of the learned is 
gradually floated down to inferior minds, until it becomes the 
permanent inheritance of the species. It gives them a deeper 
analytical insight into both the external and internal worlds, 
since it is the standing representative of ideas which may have 
hitherto eluded their grasp through the indistinctness of their 
vision—which may have floated before them, though they could 
not body them forth in any form of palpable expression. But 
perhaps we should be extending the matter a little too far, if we 
should come to the conclusion that man could not think without 
language. The w hole tenor of the argument seems rather to 
indicate that the signs of our ideas may become so identified 
with all our intellectual j^rocesses, until we consider them as 
indispensable media, not merely for communicating our thoughts, 
but for actual thinking. It shews that the mind may become 
so accustomed to “ transport its thoughts and its feelings out of 
itself,” and to spread them over the vincula, which connect us 
w'ith the external world, that it imagines there must be some 
necessary connexion betwixt the established signs and the 
mental phenomena of our constitution, which give them their 
signification. Indispensable they may be for the reciprocal 
communication of our ideas and our emotions;—useful they 
may be, even for a solitary being, to register his own individual 
experience; but to argue from the fact of our associating them 
with all our intellectual operations, that we could perform none 
of these operations without them, would be to support a paradot 
which may be contradicted by an appeal to matter of fact. 

The argument, however, when driven into the other channeb 
and considering language as the instrument of communication, 
shews, in a very prominent light, the difficulties that beset the 
theory of its gradual and unassisted formation. It is allowed, 


222 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


on all hands, that the connexion betwixt linguistic signs and 
the things signified, is purely arbitrary; or in other words, that 
there is no more reason why that colour, which we call black, 
should be termed niger in Latin, and black in English, than 
albas in the one, and white in the other. Exceptions to this 
may sometimes be found in terms that represent swiftness or 
slowness of motion, and the modulations of sound; since, in 
many cases, there is an affinity and adaptation betwixt the words 
and corresponding ideas; or, where the adaptation is wanting, 
imagination may supply the deficiency. The connexion may 
also be said to be more than arbitrary betwixt words and ideas, 
when the words are taken in a metaphorical or analogical mean¬ 
ing; or, to speak still more properly, it resolves itself into the 
relation which subsists betwixt words, when taken in a literal 
sense, and the same words, when under the influence of meta¬ 
phor or analogy:— metaphor, when there is a substitution of ideas 
from some real or imaginary resemblance; and analogy, when 
there appears to be an equivalence of ideas originating from a 
similarity of the objects in their position, their powers, and their 
susceptibilities. The two cases, however, afford but slender 
aid for the solution of the difficulties, since the one only includes 
our capacity for vocal imitation, which we possess in common 
with many other animals, and the other pre-supposes the inven¬ 
tion of the radices of the language, before we can either dilate 
their meaning, or give them an expansion corresponding with 
the plastic energies of the mind . 1 

A petitio principii seems to pervade all the arguments of our 
opponents, for all their speculations seem to assume, that, previous 
to the formation of language, man had attained one of its great- 


1 “ Nothing- can be more destitute of proof, than a great part of the specu¬ 
lations of philosophizing grammarians about the original state of language. 
One tells us, that the language of barbarians has but few words, and very few 
varieties in declension ; another, that they are filled with ovogtxTO'zn'zroiYip.iva .; 
another, that the roots of all words are verbs; another, that they are nouns; 
another, that all the original words are monosyllabic, &c. Some of these 
things may be true of some languages; but what can all such speculators say, 
when they come to know the state of language among our Aborigines ?—A 
state which puts at defiance all their theories; for in minutiae of declension 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


223 


est benefits—that of rendering himself intelligible. As to natural 
language, or the language of gesture, it is altogether out of the 
question; for it can only be called language, by way of figurative 
condescension. As to the benefits of the social system, they must 
also be dispensed with. To enjoy society is nothing more than 
to avail ourselves of the results of the aggregate intelligence of 
those who compose it; but we would fain know how this can 
take place where there is no bond of union—where there are no 
points of contact—where individuals “ oppose their repelling 
poles” to each other, and where every man is thrown back upon 
his own insulated resources without the power of mutual co-oper¬ 
ation. Yet it is in such a state as this, that we must suppose 
language to be invented, not amongst refined and civilized com¬ 
munities, but amongst beings who are actuated by no other im¬ 
pulses but those of mere animality, and who feel no other wants 
but those of an empty stomach. Other remarks might be added, 
but we will take our leave of this “tilt and tournament of absur¬ 
dities”—this task of solving a problem, where the difficulties 
seem only to be increased by any attempts at the solution. 

If some persons be of opinion that we have dwelt a little 
longer than what was necessary upon the origin of language, our 
only apology is, that the settlement of the question involves a 
train of reasoning, which, when fully developed, leads to con¬ 
clusions far more important than any speculations upon language 
itself. We have also another reason. The apparent indifference 
with which the subject has been treated by philosophers in ge¬ 
neral, seems to indicate that they consider it as finally set at rest; 
and if this be the case, we can see no reason why we should not 
state our objections, and endeavour to produce an impression on 
the other side. And this we think to be the more necessary, 
because, in some of our own, and many of the continental writers 


they surpass the Greek or even the multiform Arabic; and in most respects 
they differ widely from that state, which the above theory would teach us to 
be necessary.”— Stuart’s Elements of Biblical Criticism, p. 49. Ed. Hender¬ 
son. The extraordinary powers of combination, which these dialects display, 
have induced Mr. Duponceau, of Philadelphia, to give them the name of 
Polysynthic. 




224 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


on subjects of this nature, there is a seeming depth of analysis, 
an apparatus of erudition, a philosophical imperturbability, and 
a species of “ doctor ale charlatanerie,” which altogether conceal 
the purely conjectural nature of the elements of their systems, 
and are by no means calculated to awaken the slumbering jea¬ 
lousies of the inexperienced student. 

In our introduction to the subject before us, we made several 
observations with respect to the advantages of language; and 
perhaps we cannot better conclude it, than by pointing out their 
application. Language, as we have already said (when speaking 
of the external world), can be considered in no other light than 
as a register of the individual and collective experience of the 
species. First, we have the philosophy of sensation which only 
concerns itself with the observation of those phenomena of nature 
which are invariably passing before us; and then we have the 
philosophy of experiment, which analyzes her most complex 
combinations, and tortures her into a thousand various forms, in 
order to 

* * * “Win the loving secret from her.” 

Then comes the philosophy of induction, which, after the 
comparison of one class of phenomena with another, commences 
with the system of exclusion, or as Bacon terms it, the “ abscis- 
sio injiniti,” generalizes our observations, leads us into a know¬ 
ledge of primary and secondary causes, and inducts us into the 
interpretation of the mysteries of the universe.—Then comes the 
philosophy of practice, which remembers that knowledge is only 
useful, when knowledge is converted into power—which keeps 
one eye fixed upon the sublimities of science, “ and the other 
constantly turned to their application to human uses”—which 
brings down the loftiest speculations into immediate contact 
with the necessities, the comforts, and the luxuries of civilized life. 

But if there be the science of power, is there not also the science 
of happiness p What is the history of our whole existence, but 
a history of experiments upon our own feelings?—What is the 
history of all our actions, but a history of experiments upon our 
moral nature?—What is the history of all political institutions. 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


225 


blit a series of inventions calculated to retard or accelerate hu¬ 
man improvement?—What is the history of all civil communi¬ 
ties, but a series of operations, working’ out the grand problem 
how far virtue is connected with their welfare, and vice with 
their misery ? If, then, there be the same field for observation 
and experiment in the moral as the physical world, has there 
been a corresponding result?—Has the science of human hap¬ 
piness progressed in the same ratio with the science of human 
power? We do not shrink from this important question, yet we 
will not answer it. Men have been their own enemies, and they 
have “ dealt hardly with each other.” Every page of their history 
teems with recollections of bloody bravery, instead of high and 
noble aspirations. But, if the science of happiness has been 
hitherto neglected, it shall be neglected no longer. 

“Methinks I hear a voice cry, sleep no more!” 

A change is coming over the spirit of the dream in which the 
nations have been entranced, and the genius of their future des¬ 
tiny is gradually emancipating them from that “ universal atmos¬ 
phere of conspiracy” against their own happiness in which they 
have every-where “ lived, and moved, and had their being.” 
We will therefore no longer plunge into the eternity of the past, 
but look forward into the vista of the future, 

* * “ Down which, the more you gaze, 

Stiller and stiller seems the spiritual world, 

That lies sphered in this wondrous orb, beyond 
New thoughtful regions, opening far beyond, 

And all imbued with the deep hush of heaven.” 


2 c 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


22 ( J 


DISSERTATION MIL 


ON THE EXISTENCE OF THE DEITY. 

SECT. I. 

1. Remarks on systems of classification, and the influence which 
they exert upon our ideas. 2. A sketch of the different periods 
in the intellectual history of man, and particularly of Ger¬ 
man rationalism. 3. An inquiry into the origin of our idea 
concerning the existence of the Deify. 

1. The transition from the origin of language to the existence 
of the Deity, may seem rather illogical and abrupt, and some 
reason may be demanded, why that which is prior in the order of 
nature, should not be prior in the order of discussion. 

All our inquiries concerning physical bodies may be divided 
into two departments. If we take, for instance, the substance 
glass, our first inquiry would be into its intrinsic nature, consi¬ 
dered abstractedly and independent of all other existences. We 
should find that it is a compound of alkaline and siliceous matter; 
and if our analysis could be carried any farther, we should still 
only be inquiring into those elementary particles which coexist 
in space, as a continuous whole, and constitute the substance 
which is the object of our investigations. But, as glass is not the 
only substance that exists in nature, another inquiry jDresents 
itself, namely, an inquiry into the relations which it bears to 
other physical bodies, or in other words, an inquiry into its 
powers and susceptibilities, or the modes in which it affects, or 
is affected by surrounding objects. In this point of view we 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


2*27 


shall find that it is a transparent substance, which, according to 
the general laws of refraction, bends the light that passes through 
it variously—that it is a substance fusible at a certain 'temper¬ 
ature, not dissolved by the common powerful acids, but soluble 
in a particular acid, termed the fluoric acid—that when strongly 
rubbed by certain other substances, it communicates, for a time, 
to various bodies the power of attracting or repelling other bodies, 
and in this manner, we may enumerate all the other properties, 
which may be predicated of it, as being the results of observation 
and experiment. 1 It is plain that all these properties are the 
phenomena of the substance glass, as existing in time, and con¬ 
sidered as the permanent basis of these successive changes, which 
have been superinduced by its own susceptibilities, or the powers 
of other physical substances, when brought with it into actual 
contact, or within such a distance, as reciprocally to affect each 
other. 

The same observation, though perhaps with a certain degree 
of vagueness, may be applied to all other objects of intellectual 
inquiry. There may exist beings of a superior order, who are 
able to arrive at the knowledge of any subject by a simple glance 
of intuition, and to whom all our methods of investigation would 
appear as cumbrous, as they would certainly be useless. But 
if this be the privilege of superior beings, it is not the privilege 
of man. His sphere is the sphere of actual observation, and 
the instrument of his power is the instrument of experimental 
induction. What the nature of matter may be, we know not, 
and of the nature of mind we are equally ignorant; yet, notwith¬ 
standing, we are capable of classifying the successive phenomena 
which they exhibit, and marking the relations which they bear 
to each other. All science is nothing more than the classification 
of such relations, and consequently all sciences are more or less 
remotely connected; and hence the frequent necessity that we 
are under of making incursions into the territories of sciences 
that are not merely conterminous, for the sake of illustrating 
subjects, with which, to the apprehension of the unlearned, they 


i See Brown’s Philosophy, &c. Lecture 5th, on Physical Inquiry. 



2*28 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


have no real or apparent connection. As Bacon tells us, that 
“ no discovery can be made upon a level,” and that we must first 
rise to an eminence which overlooks the immediate object of our 
investigations;—so, by the same parity of reasoning, he, who has 
obtained the most commanding prosjDect of the various sciences, 
or, if we may be allowed the expression, the various divisions of 
the intellectual universe, may be considered as the best adapted 
to cultivate any particular section to which he may hereafter 
direct his attention. “How many unsuspected affinities (says 
Professor Stewart) may be reasonably presumed to exist 
among sciences, which, to our circumscribed views, appear, at 
present, the most alien from each other! The abstract geometry 
of Apollonius and Archimedes was found, after an interval of 
two thousand years, to furnish a torch to the physical inquiries 
of Newton; while, in the further progress of knowledge, the 
etymology of languages has been happily employed to fill up 
the chasms of ancient history; and the conclusions of compara¬ 
tive anatomy to illustrate the theory of the earth.” 1 

As it is almost impossible to discuss any particular subject 
without presupposing in the reader much preliminary information 
on other subjects—as it is almost impossible to write a synthe¬ 
tical treatise on any department of science that shall consist 
purely of propositions which are fully developed, and may be 
fully understood in that department itself;—so, on the other hand, 
the circle that bounds the illustrations of any writer may be con¬ 
sidered as indicating the circumference of his knowledge, or, at 
least, as a criterion of the tendency of his faculties to the per¬ 
ception of relations and analogies. As memory, intellect, and 
imagination very frequently enter into the composition of a sin¬ 
gle production;—so, on the other hand, the corresponding divi¬ 
sions of knowledge, when taken in the extent of the Baconian 
logic, namely, history, philosophy, and poetry, are, in many 
cases, so far laid under contribution as to render it difficult to 
specify the particular department, under which we might range 
with the greatest propriety the subject that we may happen to 


1 Preliminary Dissertations, &c. p. 8. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


229 


be treating 1 . But, in fact, every logical arrangement of the dif¬ 
ferent departments of knowledge, according to the different 
faculties which may be supposed to preside over them by a 
specific appropriation, must ever be substantially erroneous; 
because (as Degerando observes) “the memory, the reason, 
and the imagination are necessarily combined in every art, as 
well as in every science; though one of the three faculties, to 
whatever extent it may be seconded by the two others, pent 
cependant joner le role principal , may nevertheless enact the 
principal character.” 1 —So, on the other hand, there can be no 
accurate classification of the various departments of knowledge— 
no precise demarcation of the boundaries by which they are 
mutually separated; and consequently, the provinces of different 
sciences will be found, to a certain extent, reciprocally absorbed 
in each other. “To this method of distinction (says Dr. 
Craigie, when speaking of the different apparatuses of our 
animal economy), to this method it may indeed be objected, 
that scarcely in one instance are all the organs of any apparatus 
exclusively directed to the performance of the function of that 
apparatus; and an organ concerned in the function of digestion 
may also contribute to that of circulation or respiration. Thus 
the larynx, though more particularly the organ of voice, is also 
an organ of respiration; the tongue and teeth, though belonging 
in one sense to the organs of digestion, are not less important as 
those of speech; the diaphragm and abdominal muscles, though 
organs of respiration, are also accessary agents of digestion. 
These, however, are only to be regarded as examples of the in¬ 
genuity with which one organ in the animal body is made to 
answer several purposes; and since all arrangements are artifi¬ 
cial, or bear relation, not to the purpose of construction, but to the 
mind of the observer, the best course is to choose that which is 
least so, and which makes the nearest approach to the apparent 
objects of nature.” 2 

The immense variety of phenomena, which are presented by 


i Hist. Compar. Tome 1. p. 298. 

2 General, Special, and Comparative Anatomy. 





230 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


the external and internal worlds, almost renders systems of clas¬ 
sification indispensably necessary for the acquisition of know¬ 
ledge. The mind, at the very first onset, feels itself unable to 
grapple with such a multitude of insulated facts, and perceives 
that its only resources for carrying on the contest must be derived 
from artificial systems founded upon the contemplation of nature 
blended with its own operations. No system of classification 
can ever alter the phenomena either of matter or mind; but a 
system of classification may essentially alter our ideas respecting 
them. Classification is not a knowledge of particulars,—it is 
merely their arrangement. It pre-supposes an acquaintance with 
individual phenomena—it pre-supposes a perception of the ana¬ 
logies and relations which they bear to each other, and an induc¬ 
tive generalization built upon the observation of these analogies 
and relations. Hence we may perceive the origin of that spirit 
of favouritism which inspires the founders and propagators of 
particular systems. Those relations which present themselves 
to the mind of one observer do not present themselves to the 
mind of another.— Some relations, which would have served bet¬ 
ter as the foundation of a system of classification, are not admit¬ 
ted, because they lay beyond the sphere of the author’s percep¬ 
tion; and others are sometimes admitted because they have 
acquired a degree of vividness and predominance in the mind 
by a more ardent attachment, and a more intense contemplation. 

As an illustration of the observations which we have already 
made, we might take, for instance, the various systems of classi¬ 
fication that have prevailed amongst writers on the subject of 
natural history. By some writers, the various members of the 
animal kingdom have been distributed into classes founded upon 
the relations which have existed amongst them with respect to 
the organs of circulation, and the nature of the circulating fluid. 
Thus we have the first division, consisting of viviparous and ovi¬ 
parous animals, having two auricles and two ventricles; blood 
warm and red;—second division, consisting of animals breathing 
arbitrarily through lungs, and animals with gills, having a heart 
with one auricle and one ventricle; blood cold and red;—and 
division third, consisting of insects and worms, possessing a 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


231 


heart with one ventricle, no auricle; blood cold and white. 
Others have divided the animal kingdom into three great tribes, 
in accordance with the nature and distribution of the nervous 
system. Here we have the tribe vertebrata, or animals possessed 
of two nervous systems, the cerebrospinal and the ganglionic ;— 
the tribe invertebrata, or animals possessed of a single nervous 
system surrounding the oesophagus with ganglia and branches; 
the sympathetic; and the tribe zoophyta, having a nervous system 
composed of molecules more or less perceptible, and no distinction 
of sexes. Again, we have Cuvier, who “ divides the animal 
kingdom into four principal branches. Setting aside all acces¬ 
sary and artificial characters, he proceeds upon the consideration 
of the essential structure of animals, and thus deduces four great 
groups, or separate types of form, to one or other of which all 
the minor divisions may be ultimately referred.” 

In any department of science, no system of classification can 
ever be said either to be permanent or perfect; for, as our 
knowledge of individuals becomes more profound and analytical, 
a corresponding improvement may be anticipated in systems of 
classification. New relations will be discovered—more general 
analogies, and more general agreements will present themselves; 
and the most apparently discordant phenomena may hereafter 
be brought under the dominion of some master-principle, which 
will unite them into one harmonious whole. “ The more we 
know of any branch of science (says Dr. Priestley), the less is 
the compass into which we are able to bring its principles, 
provided the facts, from which they are inferred, be numerous. 

* * * In an advanced state of knowledge, we 

are able to reduce more of the particular into general observa¬ 
tions; whereas, in the infancy of a science, every observation is 
an independent fact, and, in delivering the principles of it, they 
must all be distinctly mentioned;—so that, though a selection 
may be made, a proper abridgment is impossible.” In illus¬ 
tration of this, the same author observes farther, that “ notwith¬ 
standing the vast additions that have been made to the science 
of optics within the last hundred years, a judicious summary of 
the whole will be much shorter now than it would have been a 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


*232 

century ago, and yet it is probable, much larger than there will 
be any necessity of making it a century hence; as it may be 
presumed, that, by that time, a connexion will be traced between 
many facts which now appear to be unconnected and indepen¬ 
dent of one another, and therefore require to be recited sepa¬ 
rately.” 1 

A system of classification does not lead a 'priori to a knowledge 
of individual phenomena; though, as we have already observed, 
it may essentially modify our ideas respecting them. “The 
subtlety of mind is not equal to the subtlety of nature.” It is 
not sufficiently comprehensive to grasp her diversified pheno¬ 
mena; and, consequently, systems of classification must be in¬ 
troduced as auxiliaries to the memory and judgment. But when 
systems of classification are once introduced, let us beware of 
their re-action. Unimportant as the terms of any classification 
may appear in themselves, yet it will be found that they inevi¬ 
tably give the impulse and direction to the current of our ideas. 
When objects are once conceived, as reduced to a class, we run 
the risk of considering them only under those general relations 
which serve as a foundation of the system to which they belong; 
and, consequently, we run the risk of not admitting into our es¬ 
timate other properties, which, though not included in the sys¬ 
tem as “ characters of generic resemblance,” are eqally important 
and essential to the nature of these objects. “The individual 
object (says Dr. Brown ), when its place in any system has been 
long fixed and familiar to us, is probably conceived by us less 
as an individual, than as one of a class of individuals that agree 
in certain respects, and the frequent consideration of it as one 
of a class, must fix the peculiar relations of the class more 
strongly in the mind, and weaken proportionally the impression 
of every other quality that is not so included. A new classifica¬ 
tion, therefore, which includes, in its generic character, those 
neglected qualities, will, of course, draw to them attention, which 
they could not otherwise have obtained; and, the more various 
the views are, which we take of the objects of any science, the 


1 History of Discoveries relating to Vision. &c. p. 768. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


233 


juster consequently; because the more equal will be the estimate 
we form of them. So truly is this the case, that I am convinced 
that no one has ever read over the mere terms of a new division 
in a science, however familiar the science may have been to him, 
without learning more than this new division itself, without 
being struck with some property or relation, the importance of 
which he now perceives most clearly, and which he is quite 
astonished that he should have overlooked so long before.” 1 

2. ‘‘It is the practice with us all (says Aristotle) to pursue 
an inquiry, not as it belongs to a thing, but relatively to an op¬ 
ponent in argument.” 2 The observation, though obvious, may 
lead to important reflections. The manners, the customs, the 
laws, and the institutions of society, are perpetually changing 
around us; and these changes, in the external world, are perpe¬ 
tually effecting fresh changes, not in the laws that regulate the 
operations of the human mind, but in the objects of our ideas, 
our desires, and our emotions. When Plato contemplated the 
changes and variations that were constantly taking place in the 
material world, he came to the conclusion, that all nature was 
in a “ perpetual flux,” and that all her phenomena were transi¬ 
tory and deceptive; and the consideration of the mind, as con¬ 
tinually varying its susceptibilities with respect to the impression 
of surrounding circumstances, would almost lead a superficial 
observer to an analogous conclusion with respect to the intellec¬ 
tual world. As the thoughts, feelings, hopes, and aspirations 
that once constituted the very atmosphere in which “ we lived, 
and moved, and had our being,” no longer exert that potent 
and magical influence upon us;—so the thoughts, feelings, 
hopes, and aspirations, which once belonged to an antecedent 
period of barbarism or civilization, unless verified by the page 
of history, would have been almost rejected by us as alien to our 
common nature. That which was the “ aim ol their existence, 
is not ours;” and the alterations, which have since taken place 
in the very framework and texture of society, almost induce us 


1 Philosophy of the Human Mind. Vol. 1. p. 335. 
^ De Cselo. III. 3. p. 467. 




234 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


to look upon their actions as the actions of a different order of 
beings, or the creations of the genius of romance. The per¬ 
petual annihilation and renovation of that actual and ideal 
" environment,” which constitutes the basis of our intellectual 
and moral existence, is but a shadowy resemblance and faint 
representation of those unceasing transformations which are 
exhibited upon the great theatre of human action. We find 
ourselves placed in new positions, and in new relations;—these 
positions and relations give birth to new feelings and senti¬ 
ments, and these feelings and sentiments crystallize into what 
has been termed the “ body and the spirit of the age,” and de¬ 
termine its “ form and pressure.” The phases of any particular 
state of civilization, and the impulses which it generates, are 
equally transitory and evanescent; but there is a plastic energy 
in the mind, which adjusts itself to all circumstances, and a 
graduated scale of passions and aspirations, which is adapted to 
every epoch of our intellectual and moral education. “ Civiliz¬ 
ation (says a modern writer) has been gained, lost, gained again. 
Religions, and languages, and forms of government, and usages 
of private life, and modes of thinking—all have undergone a 
succession of revolutions. Everything has passed away but the 
great features of nature, the heart of man, and the miracles of 
that art, of which it is the office to reflect back the heart of man 
and the features of nature.” 1 

“ Between two worlds life hovers like a star 
’Twixt night and morn upon the horizon’s verge. 

How little do we know that which we are! 

How less what we may be! The eternal surge 
Of time and tide rolls on, and bears afar 

Our bubbles; as the old burst, new emerge, 

Lash’d from the foam of ages; whilst the graves 
Of empires heave but like some passing waves.” 2 , 

“ Mutantur homines , variantur et mores; mutantur animi ,— 
variantur et vestes; linguarum alteratv/r simplicitas, et prisca 
idiomatum proprietas.” * 3 But it is not language merely that is 


1 Edinburgh Review. No. 106. p. 558. 2 Byron. 

3 Trithemius apud Waltonum in prolegomen. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


235 


undergoing these incessant alterations—that progresses from 
barbarism to civilization, and retrogrades from civilization to 
barbarism; for it is merely the outward and visible sign of the 
flux and reflux of that uncler-current of our ideas which gives to 
language all its meaning, and informs it with all its energy. New 
ideas present themselves, and new words must represent them;— 
new sciences are discovered, and language must therefore enter 
into new combinations;—new studies become fashionable, and 
therefore new. topics must be introduced into discussion;— 
learning now is not what learning was two centuries ago, and 
erudition has been driven into another channel. The whole in¬ 
tellectual history of man is nothing but a history of time and its 
mutations. If we look back at the first literary efforts of Greece, 
every object seems to have been viewed through a poetical me¬ 
dium, and the hazy splendour of mythology is thrown over the 
magnified and distorted events of preceding times. Then comes 
Homer, who systematizes these broken fragments—who sings of 
the effects of “ lady-love ” and the direful woes that sprung from 
“ Achilles’ ire.” Troy again lives before us, as if by the spell 
of some mighty magician;—we again see the mail-clad chief 
armed for the battle and the dreadful front of the Grecian pha¬ 
lanx;—we again see Achilles dragging Hector round its im¬ 
pregnable walls, and Priam, if we may use the strong language 
of Virgil, vomiting his “ purple soul ” before the altar of his 
country;—we again see the infatuated Trojans breaking down 
the walls on that fatal day, and dragging into the city the 
wooden horse pregnant with Grecian warriors;—we again hear 
. the voice of Eneas calling upon his beloved Creusa, whilst 
every tower is reflecting the fiery gleam, and the smoke of their 
ruins is sailing upon the wind into the “womb of distant 
darkness.” The regal anxieties of Agamemnon, the sublime 
indignation of Achilles, the pleasing loquacity of Nestor, the 
insinuating address of Ulysses, and the “ vis sine consilio ” of 
Ajax are as well known to us as the faces and characters of our 
most familiar friends. We feel ourselves translated into a new 
world, as if it had risen by enchantment—a period when poetry 
was the “ music of their whole manner of being,”—when men 


236 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


endeavoured to render their existence harmonious,—“ when 
earth was blended with heaven,—when humanity lived near to 
the gods, and the blood of the heroic age ran warm in their 
veins.” 

“ O when shall we see again Greece and her deified heroes! 

And the tide of life that flowed so noble and free! 

The half-waken’d sleepers of marble, the statues of gods and the god-like. 

Alone reflect the past, and retain the celestial likeness. 

The calm and immortal beauty, the deep and unending repose.” 

Then comes the father of history, Herodotus, breathing the 
genuine spirit of the olden times. He forms the connecting 
link betwixt the historic and the fabulous ages—he is the “ beau¬ 
tiful Ionic bridge with nine arches,” which, on the one hand, 
brings us into contact with real flesh-and-blood, heroes, and, on 
the other, leads us into the depths, the mysteries, and the mar¬ 
vels of the primeval time .—“ He has performed his office with 
pre-eminent skill, and has passed the golden chain to his suc¬ 
cessors, as he received it from the hands of him who took it up 
at its origin—the throne of the Olympian Jove.” Then comes 
the turbulent era of the republic, and the wonderful develop¬ 
ment of genius to which it contributed. This was the age of 
wonderful men. We feel nothing but the intense sublimity of 
Sophocles, the varied pathos of Euripides, the Attic salt of 
Aristophanes, and the mighty energies of him who 

* * * “ Fulmin’d over Greece, 

To Macedon and Artaxerxes’ throne.” 

This was the age, too, of Plato and Aristotle ;—the one the 
most sublime, and the other the most acute of mortals—the very 
“ Proteus of their talents.” In Aristotle we see a ruggedness 
of intellect, which, nevertheless, emerges in forms of beauty and 
loveliness—a real power of analysis, which enables him to grap¬ 
ple with the profoundest mysteries of human nature, and yet, 
notwithstanding, did not preventhim from vainly endeavouring to 
found an interpretation of the phenomena of the universe upon 
a priori reasoning and a system of dialectic. On the other hand 
we perceive Plato aspiring after a nobler and theoretic exist- 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


237 


ence—blending the gorgeous lights of an oriental imagination 
with the scenes of every-day-life—absorbed in “ dreamy depths 
of solemn contemplation, in visions of ethereal beauty,” and re¬ 
posing, with an Elysian calmness, upon the faint glimpses that 
he caught of the unknown world, and the capabilities of that 
immortal principle within us, 

“ Which is greater than isle, than continent. 

Than earth itself, than ocean circling earth.” 

The intellectual history of Rome is but a transcript of that of 
Greece. At the period of their decline commences the age of 
the sophists and the rhetoricians, who flattered kings and eulo¬ 
gized tyrants—who degraded eloquence to the study of mere 
artificial common-places and the mechanism of diagrams, and 
separated it from that profound knowledge of history and of 
human nature, which alone could clothe it with real dignity, 
and infuse into it the principle of vitality. 

Then came the age of Christianity, its wonderful development 
and its wonderful success—the age of real piety and unaffected 
humility. To this succeeded the age of the Homoousians and 
Homoiousians, who languished after imperial smiles, and who 
found out that road to heaven which had been denied to geome¬ 
try—the age of palmy orthodoxy and “ whiskered heresy,” of 
“ withered dilettantism and amateur eclecticism,” which merely 
toys with all opinions—of tlieurgists, who endeavoured to ob¬ 
tain a control over the gods, by availing themselves of magical 
incantations and the ministry of demons; and theosophists, who 
sought the purification and apotheosis of their nature, by dead¬ 
ening their susceptibilities to material impressions, by taking 
refuge in the shrine of ascetic contemplation, in the abstractions 
of their own intellect, and the reveries of their own imagination. 

But another change came over the spirit of the dream. “ The 
fall of the western empire, like that of a colossal structure, was 
succeeded by a thick cloud, which overspread Europe, covering 
it with darkness and desolation. All that remained of science 
or art perished in its ruins, and the only relic of the catastrophe 
was the shadow of a mighty name. But the barbarians, who 



• 238 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


had subverted the Roman power, appear to have brought with 
them, from their forests and wildernesses, the elements of a sys¬ 
tem which was destined to thicken the darkness in which it 
originated; to bind Europe for ages in the most abject thraldom; 
nay, even to maintain a long and fierce struggle against the re¬ 
viving energies of the human mind, and the regenerative powers 
of society.” 1 Learning was confined to cloisters, and monkish 
superstition confirmed the monopoly. The study of languages 
was looked ujmn as heretical, and the Aristotelian logic, cor¬ 
rupted by the instrumentality of secondary translations made 
from the Arabic, became the theatre of literary contests and 
literary honours. The mind was broken down by the subtlety 
of questions which came under discussion; every thing, visible 
and invisible, was reduced to its appropriate category, 2 and 
ignorance became the exclusive claimant of all that " pomp and 
circumstance ” which could follow in the train of real knowledge. 

“ The glow-worm ’gins to pale his ineffectual Jive; and we scent 
the morning air ” of the coming day. A spirit of inquiry was 
gradually developed, and the genius of humanity emerged from 
the profoundest gloom, as if she had derived her new-born vi¬ 
gour from the very centuries of her slumber. This was the age 
of the revival of letters—of unbounded admiration for the wis¬ 
dom of antiquity—of a mania for philological erudition, and 
establishing the integrity of the texts of the Greek and Latin 
writers. It was an era memorable in the history of man, though 
characterized more by the servility of imitation than the discur¬ 
siveness of originality—though taste exerted its “ elective ener¬ 
gy,” rather than genius its creative power. It was an era that 
exhibited, in bold relief, the “ highest intellectual endowments 
with the most deplorable aberrations of the human understand¬ 
ing.” The light had already appeared, but it was not yet 
“ divided from the darkness; ”—“ learning did not uniformly 
liberalize, and the re-kindling splendour of ancient times shone 
upon nothing but its own glories.” Then came the reformation. 


1 Browne on Armies. Encyc. Britan. 

2 See p. 149—50 of the present work. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


239 


the council of Trent, and the age of theological polemics. The 
press sweat with controversy, and every member of the church 
militant was ranged under his respective banner. The leaders 
of the reformation were men of ardent imaginations and indo¬ 
mitable energy. They merit the sympathy of humanity, as far 
as humanity extends—the effects of that mighty impulse, which 
they gave to religion and philosophy, will reach to the end of 
time; they will command the gratitude of the most distant pos¬ 
terity, and “ recorded honours shall gather round them.” Then 
followed the contests of the reformed churches, the synod of 
Dort, the quinquarticular controversy, and the “ revolting de¬ 
ductions of Calvinian metaphysics.” The thunderbolt of excom¬ 
munication was snatched from the Tarpeian citadel, and wielded 
by the professors of a religion which is first pure and then peace¬ 
able . 

-“ Every mountain now had found a tongue, 

And Jura answered, through her misty shroud, 

Back to the stormy Alps, who call’d to her aloud.” i 

Extremes provoke extremes, and now followed the revulsion 
of overloaded reason to the antipodes of absolute scepticism. 
Palled with controversy, disgusted at the follies of preceding 
theologians, and sick with their own imaginings, came the Ger¬ 
man rationalists —a race of scholars of the finest water, and the 
most indefatigable of the “ children of Adam.” They thought 
that there were truths of which “ psalmody had made no men¬ 
tion,” and that blunders had been committed in the Athanasian 
creed. They thought that symbolical forms and thirty-nine 
articles had only been imposed upon the world, as an apology for 
real ignorance, and a check to the intellectual and moral im¬ 
provement of the species. They were aware, however, that a 
religion, which has an air of miracle and supernaturalism about 
it, will be always congenial to the feelings of the unenlightened 
multitude; and, therefore, in the plenitude of their compassion, 
they left them, until the appointed time, to their “ gothic church¬ 
es and superstitious parsons.” “Reason (said they) alone is 


i Byron’s Childe Harold, Canto III. 92. 





240 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


eternal; she exists since the foundation of the world, and she 
exists wherever man dwells. She works herself out of all 
positive religions just as the sun does out of the clouds that 
encompass him. Reason, again, requires but little for her satis¬ 
faction—only a few simple conceptions, before which the whole 
empire of mystery and nonsense falls away.” Was it therefore 
fair and reasonable that “order should reign” in Christendom, 
and that the slumber of a dogmatic and routiniere theology 
should continue for ever;—was not Christianity a progressive 
system, and ought it not therefore to keep pace with the rest of 
the sciences? Did it not possess within itself an internal prin¬ 
ciple of development and germs of future expansion ? Is not 
religion the synthesis of all our modes of conception ? Will it 
not therefore admit of perpetual modifications in a period of 
advanced and advancing civilization, and will it not be suscep¬ 
tible of indefinite improvement in the same ratio as the world is 
approximating to its “grand climactericP” 

In order to realize these theories, a complete reformation was 
to be effected in theological learning—a new direction was to be 
given to our studies, and our ideas were to be driven into another 
channel. True it was that all preceding theologians had ima¬ 
gined that the Scriptures were inspired writings; but then, in 
an enlightened age, the dreams of imagination ought to vanish 
at the dawn of reason. The question, hitherto, had never been 
satisfactorily settled; no sufficient reason had ever yet been given 
why the ordinary laws of causation should be susjiended; and, 
by many writers, the very possibility of inspiration was denied 
upon “ strange 'psychological grounds.” If the term inspiration 
was to be applied to the Scriptures, it ought to be applied with 
a certain degree of latitude. As all truth might be said ulti¬ 
mately to be derived from the Deity, in that sense the Scriptures 
might be said to be the result of inspiration; and, in such a 
sense, every man of genius was an inspired man—the poet was 
inspired, and philosophy had been called a “Divine gift” by 

Cicero.- Again, a more accurate and extensive collation of 

manuscripts was to be instituted, and our endeavours were to be 
directed to the establishment of a purer and more correct text. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


241 


A deeper acquaintance was to be formed with the original lan¬ 
guages in which the Scriptures were written, and the genius of 
the cognate dialects. By this means, much that was paradoxical 
and seemingly absurd, would be gradually evaporated: and what 
had hitherto appeared to the orthodox, as nothing but miracle 
and mystery, and to the sceptic, as the mere vagaries of an ori¬ 
ental imagination, would be metamorphosed into rational truths, 
as soon as they were stripped of their artificial drapery and local 
colouring. But grammatical criticism would be of very little va¬ 
lue, unless it was illuminated with the lights of history. Hence 
an inquiry must be made into the genius, circumstances, and 

habits of the different writers—into the nature of the sects to 

/ 

which they belonged—into the modes of thinking, that were 
current in the age in which they lived, and into the influence 
which these peculiarities would naturally exert upon their pro¬ 
ductions. The modern reader was not to be merely an interpre¬ 
ter, he was called to higher functions, and must assume the office 
of judge. What the writers literally said and meant might be 
interesting to the men of their own day and generation, but now 
it was a matter of subordinate importance. If we were desi¬ 
rous of turning the Scriptures to any advantage, we should en¬ 
deavour to find out what they ought to have said, if they had not 
been permitted, through the inscrutable permission of Providence, 
to mingle their own individual views and national prejudices 
with the fundamental truths of the Gospel, for the sake of facili¬ 
tating its acceptance; and what they would have said if they 
had lived in other circumstances of institutions, customs, and 
climate, and had expressed themselves in the precise terms of a 

language less figurative and more philosophical ?-Besides the 

most superficial acquaintance with the politics and religious in¬ 
stitutions of antiquity is sufficient to convince us, that no religion 
was ever introduced into the world, which was not invested with 
a mythological dress, in order to adapt it to the conceptions of 
an ignorant age; 1 and what reason was there in the present case, 
that analogy should be violated, and Christianity constitute the 
solitary exception? Every religion has been full of the genera¬ 
tions, incarnations, and apparitions of the gods, and might not 

2 E 



242 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


the extraordinary characters of Scripture be placed in the category 
of Hercules, the Dioscuri, Romulus, and Alexander ? The 
history of the creation, the tree of knowledge, and the fall ol 
man are all mythi, and the only difficult question about them is, 
what was the moral sentiment which these allegorical modes ol 
expression were designed to convey? The principles ol the 
school of Heyne, so happily employed to illustrate some parts 
of the Greek mythology, and the origin of many of the historical 
traditions of classic antiquity, emerged in an application (some¬ 
times covert, sometimes more open), to all the moral phenomena, 
and all the extraordinary events which are presented by Hebrew 
literature ! Every thing was reduced to human proportions— 
the sublimest characters were brought down to the common 
standard—they were judged upon the principles of every-day 
life, and their motives were estimated upon the scale of ordinary 
action. “ Homer is parallelled with Moses, the Hebrew judges 
with the heroic age of Greece, and in the person of our Saviour, 
they revere a Jewish Socrates, a martyr for the cause of truth, 
and the author of a better practical philosophy than was ever 
preached to the people of antiquity. The student is led to 
think that at the eloquent voice of Eichhorn, the prophets have 
descended from their high rank, and become patriots, zealous for 
the restoration of theocratic manners and institutions—enthusi¬ 
asts, full of poetic fervour and devotion to the sacerdotal order. 
He will not doubt that t he doctrines of original sin, of the expia¬ 
tory sacrifice of a Redeemer, of the operations of grace, and the 
divinity of Jesus Christ, have fled before the double light of the 
new exegesis, and reason reinstated in her rights by so many 
able vindicators of her authority.” 1 

Again, ought we not to investigate the phases which civilization 
has exhibited at different eras, and the extent to which man, in 
all ages, has been modified by his individual circumstances 
and social position ? Ought we not to institute an extensive 
and spiritual inquiry “ into the different ages of humanity— 
the history of' the successive reign of sense, of imagination, of 


1 Stapfer —Archives du Christianisme. 1824. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


243 


intellect, and of reason, and into the causes which have made 
one or other of these faculties to predominate amongst the vari¬ 
ous nations that have figured upon the theatre of the world, and 
the influence which these causes have exerted upon the destinies 
of the species?” By viewing human nature under diversified 
aspects, we shall obtain a more profound know ledge of its prin¬ 
ciples, and be able to form a more accurate estimate of the wants 
and intellectual culture of man, in the different epochs of his 
moral education. As Christianity consists of nothing but rational 
truths, and in fact is but a mere republication of the religion 
of nature, it is evident that all the attending “ pomp and circum¬ 
stance,” which seem to militate against this supposition, ought 
to be considered as transitory paraphernalia, accommodated to 
the taste of the age in which it was first promulgated. But the 
time has now arrived for a juster appreciation of the subject; 
non-essentials ought to be separated from essentials, and the vary¬ 
ing form from the enduring substance. Every mystery would now 
resolve itself into something tangible to human reason, and the 
great verities of the Gospel, which had been so long misunder¬ 
stood, would be fully evolved , because they had met witli the “cor¬ 
responding minds,” which would reflect upon them the splendour 
of their own intellectual attributes. True it was reported that 
miracles had been performed at the outset of Christianity. Oc¬ 
currences, which seem to break the ordinary laws of causation, 
would recommend, in any age, a new religion to the attention 
of the unenlightened multitude, who may be said to possess no 
other method of obtaining instruction, than through the medium 
of their senses. But what rational man would ever think of 
adducing such occurrences as proofs of the superhuman origin 
of Christianity? Besides the catalogue of miracles might be 
considerably diminished. It would be reasonable to expect that 
many of them would vanish as soon as the Scriptures were 
expurgated by the new exegesis, and many of them might be 
accounted for upon natural principles. Upon an age which was 
«ifted with more imagination than reason, the book of llevela- 
tions would necessarily make a powerful impression. The faith or 
enthusiasm of the primitive Christians would become more vivid 


244 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


and intense, when they saw the dim curtain of futurity lifted 
up before them—when they saw the prospective triumph of the 
church over all her persecutors, and supernatural agency blend¬ 
ing with the operations of the visible world throughout all time 
and its vicissitudes! But now no practical object could be 
attained by continuing the delusion; and, accordingly, the Re¬ 
velation of St. John was looked upon, by Semler, as the work 
of a fanatic, written to promote enthusiastic notions of the 
Messiah, and, by Eichhorn, as a drama representing, in many 
alternating scenes, the downfal of Paganism and Judaism. 
“ The interpretation of the theoretic part of church faith (says 
Kant) must be conducted in such a manner as to agree with 
the common practical rules of a pure religion of reason.” “Ac¬ 
cording to this theory (says Mr. Pusey), the doctrine of the 
Trinity became symbolical of the three fundamental points of 
universal religion, that there is a holy lawgiver, a holy bene¬ 
factor, a holy retributor; the doctrine, that the "blood of Christ 
makes us pure/ yielding, according to the views of this school, 
no practical results; the blood, as containing the vital principle, 
was to be explained of the life, and the meaning of the expres¬ 
sion was to be, that when, through a community of life w ith 
Christ, his life had penetrated and united itself with ours, and 
we had conformed to his, we became pure.” 1 

“ As the schools of Heyne and Wolfius had changed the 
face of critical history, and displaced all the points of view r un¬ 
der which scholars had been accustomed to view the origin and 
phases of civilization, of institutions and religions, &c., and to 
judge the principal epochs of antiquity;—so the school of Kant 
excited a still more vigorous agitation throughout all the ter¬ 
ritory which had been cultivated by their predecessors, and 
operated an entire change in the philosophical aspect of human 
affairs.” 2 Kant was a philosopher that possessed, in an emi¬ 
nent degree, the genius of system, and, as Bacon said of Aris¬ 
totle, he seems to have thought that he could never reign in 
security until, after the fashion of oriental despots, he had slain 


* Historical Inquiry, &c. 


2 Stapfer —Archives, &c. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


245 


all his brethren. “ He explicitly announced, that he was not 
going- to found a school of eclectics, but a school of his own—a 
school not only independent, but, in some measure, hostile to 
every other; that he could admit of no corrqn’omise with any 
sect whatever; that he was come to overturn every thing which 
existed in philosophy, and to erect a new edifice on these im¬ 
mense ruins.” 1 People started, at first, at the announcement of 
such alarming innovations; but Kant would admit of “no ca¬ 
villing about restrictions; ” he demanded an unlimited faith, 
and took their understandings by storm. Besides, in his phi¬ 
losophical productions, there was an acuteness of intellect, an 
apparent profundity of analysis, a vigorous concatenation of 
principle with deduction, and an apparatus of new technicalities 
and dark enigmatical oracles, which were calculated, at one and 
the same time, to dazzle the imagination, to flatter the pride, 
and stimulate the curiosity of his disciples, who were almost ex¬ 
hausted “ during the course of their long noviciate.” 

Man is a compound being, pure reason incarnate, immersed 
in material impressions, and enchained to a “ world of pheno¬ 
mena.” As his ideas are various, so they are derived from 
different sources. One part of them may be traced up to the 
interior resources of the pure understanding, antecedent to all 
experience; and the other part may be ascribed to the original 
activity of the mind, blending itself with the contemplation of 
external objects. This distinction, however, had not been 
hitherto perceived by metaphysicians, or if it had been perceiv¬ 
ed, it had been entirely neglected. True it was that the ideas 
and operations of the human mind had been investigated by 
preceding philosophers; but then, they had considered them 
merely in their complex state—they had considered them as 
they present themselves to the notice of the most superficial 
observer, and had neglected to apply the prismatic power of 
analysis to the task of resolving them into their constituent 
elements. “Leibnitz, indeed, had likewise remarked the 
distinction subsisting between the sensitive faculty and the 


i Reinhold. 



246 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


understanding; but lie entirely overlooked the essential difference 
between their functions, and was of opinion that the faculties 

differed from one another only in degree.-In the works of 

the English and French philosophers, we find this essential dis¬ 
tinction between the sensitive and the intellectual faculties, and 
their combination towards producing one synthetical intuition, 
scarcely mentioned." 1 “ Kant was the first, therefore, who un¬ 
dertook to trace the limits of the two empires; of the senses and 
of the soul; of the external and of the internal worlds.—His 
Critique of Pure Reason may therefore be regarded as having 
given the impulse to all that has since been done in Germany, 
both in literature and philosophy." 2 . 

Kant freely acknowledged that it was the refined lucubrations 
of our countryman, Hume, on the doctrine of causation, which 
had first roused him from his dogmatical slumber, and given a 
new direction to his studies in speculative philosophy; and he 
thought, that when he had written the Critique of Pure Reason, 
he had prepared an antidote which would effectually counteract 
materialism, fatalism, atheism, fanaticism, idealism, scepticism, 
and the whole family of isms. Hume had, however, thought 
that the relation betwixt cause and effect could not be discovered 
a priori, and that the idea was the mere offspring of imagination, 
impregnated by experience; but Kant arrived at the opposite 
conclusion. Again, Kant perceived that Hume had not formed 
to himself an idea of the whole of his ■problem, and he soon found 
that the idea of cause and effect, is far from being the only one 
by which the understanding a priori thinks of the connexion of 
things; but rather, that the science of metaphysics is altogether 
founded upon these connexions. He then proceeded to ascertain 
their number; but in this abstruse investigation, metaphysics 
could not offer him the smallest assistance, because that 


1 Willich’s Elements of the Critical Philosophy, p. 68—70. 

2 Madame de Stael’s Allemagne. Vol. 3. p. 68—72. Whether Kant 
was the first or not that made the distinction, we are not called upon to de¬ 
termine. We have all along spoken in the character of the rationalists, in 
order that we might sketch their opinions without abruptness, and without 
caricature. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


247 


deduction ought first to establish the possibility of a system of 
metaphysics . 1 Kant, when he had completed this task, was 
now able to mark the true limits, “beyond which we cannot 
venture to speculate, without wandering into the empty region 
of fancy;” and he proceeded to define the extent and compass 
of that pure reason which is antecedent to all experience, and 
independent of all sensation. 

One of the ancient fathers remarked, that he knew what time 
was, until he was asked to define it, and then he was completely 
ignorant; but Kant found himself in no such predicament;— 
the question was within the compass of pure reason, and its dif¬ 
ficulties were no let or hindrance to him. In the course of his 
speculations, he was led to deny the objective reality both of 
space and time; and at the omnipotent wand of the German 
metaphysician, 

“ Space was annihilated, and time travelled not.” 

The train of reasoning, by which he was led to this conclusion, 
may be seen developed in a dissertation which he wrote, de 
mundi sensibilis atque intelligibilis forma et principiis ; but we 
are not going to translate the gradations of his argument, for we 
wish to make no experiment upon the nerves or understandings 
of our readers. Whether Kant’s reasonings be right or wrong 
upon the subject, we cannot determine; for, in this case, his spe¬ 
culations have carried him beyond this visible diurnal sphere— 
his “ cloud-capp’d ” metaphysics have distanced all our critical 
acumen, and his deductions of pure reason have become so ethe- 
realized, that they are almost impalpable to our intellect. Suf¬ 
fice it to say, therefore, that he considers time and space as mere 
subjective conditions (though inseparable from the frame of the 
human mind), under which man is allowed to view himself and 
the world. The existence of time is therefore only ideal, de¬ 
pending on a fixed law, according to which, the mind arranges 
sensible phenomena in the order of succession; and it is in 
consequence of the same law, we are led to conceive all external 


i See Kant’s Prolegomena ad Metaphysicam, Sec. 




248 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


things as placed in space, or, in the language of Kant, we are 
led to consider space as the f undamental form of every external 
sensation. 

Such is the wonderful harmony and rigorous concatenation of 
the critical philosophy, that if you grant the first principles, you 
must grant the whole system. “ In ed contextus rerum prorsus 
mirabilis est, ita ut extrema primis, media utrisque, omnia omni¬ 
bus respondeant” 1 “ Who could suppose (says Professor 

Stewart) that Kant’s opinions on space and time, the most 
abstract and the most controverted of any in the whole compass 
of metaphysics, bore on the great practical question of the free¬ 
dom of the human will?” 1 2 yet, strange as, at first sight, it may 
appear, it is really the case. “ Neither time nor space (says one 
of his disciples) are properties of things.-It follows, there¬ 

fore, that man exists not in time or space; but if man exist not 
in time and space, then we may draw the conclusion that he is 
not influenced by the laws of time and space, among which those 
of cause and effect hold a distinguished rank; it is, therefore, no 
contradiction to conceive, in such an order of things, that man 
may be free.” 3 “The whole morality of actions (saysBuHLE, in 
his account of Kant’s doctrine) reposes exclusively upon the 
practical disposition, inasmuch as it is determined by the moral 
law alone. If we consider the disposition as a phenomenon in the 
conscience, it is a natural event; it obeys the laws of causality; it 
reposes upon that which man has experimented before in time, 
and it forms part of his experimental character. But we may 
also consider it as an act of reasonable liberty: then it is no 
longer submitted to the law of causality; it is independent of the 
condition of time; it is related to an intellectual cause, liberty, 
and it forms part of the intellectual character of man.” 4 This 
was the mode in which Kant “ reconciled fate and liberty, the 


1 Bornius de Scientia et Conjectura. 

2 Preliminary Dissertations, p. 196. We have been considerably indebted 
to the writers quoted by Stewart, for the present sketch of the Kantian 
system. 

3 Nitsch’s General Survey of the Principles of Kant. 

4 Hist, de la Philosophic Moderne, Tom. 6. p. 604—5. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


249 


moral responsibility and dependance of finite beings. He be¬ 
lieved that he had escaped the rock by only submitting the monde 
phenomenique to the law of causality, and extricating the mind 
from this principle as being a noumenon or chose en soi; thus 
considering every action as, at once, belonging to a double se¬ 
ries:—to the physical order where it is enchained to its antece¬ 
dents and consequents, by the common ties of nature, and to the 
moral order, where a determination produces an effect, without 
one being referred to a preceding state, in order to explain this 
volition and its result/’ 1 

“ In the French experimental philosophy (says M. Ancillon) 
the faculty of feeling, and the faculty of knowing, are one and 
the same. In the new philosophy of Germany, there is no fa¬ 
culty of knowing but reason. In the former, taking our depar¬ 
ture from individuals, we rise, by degrees, to ideas, to general 
notions, to principles. In the latter, beginning with what is 
most general, or rather, with what is universal, we descend to 
individual existences, and to particular cases. In the one, what 
we see, what we touch, what we feel, are the only realities: in 
the other, nothing is real but what is invisible and purely intel¬ 
lectual.” 2 

When Leibnitz spoke of the soul as being a spiritual automa¬ 
ton, we have no doubt that this single phrase considerably 
weakened the unfavourable impression of some of the darker 
features of his system. Though the reader was aware that the 
principles of the Theodicea, if followed out to their legitimate 
consequences, overthrew the moral responsibility of man;— 
though the reader was aware that these consequences were by 
no means disguised, but even elevated by some of his disciples, 
and particularly Bonnet of Geneva, into a high strain of de¬ 
votional mysticism; yet he felt his mind in some measure reliev¬ 
ed, when he reflected that materialism was not superadded to 
necessity, that the omnipotence of the Deity, according to their 
conceptions, rose in the opposite scale as a counterpoise to our 


i Biographie Universelle art. Leibnitz. 

2 Melanges de Litterature et de Philosophic. 

2 F 




250 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


own degradation, and that the breaking up of our free agency 
was, in some degree, compensated by the sublime resignation of 
a gloomy fatalism. The spirit of this observation may be ex¬ 
tended to the philosophy of Kant. Though the critique of pure 
reason vaunts itself, that all its deductions are derived from 

v i 

principles which are antecedent to all experience, and indepen¬ 
dent of all sensation; yet it inducts its readers no farther into 
the doctrines of supernaturalism, or even of natural theology, 
than the system of Helvetius, and other philosophers of the 
same school, who consider the senses not merely as the “begin¬ 
ning, but the end of all our knowledge/’ We do not think that 
we are misrepresenting the critical philosophy by this statement, 
when we reflect that the author of the system himself acknow¬ 
ledges, that in this intellectual and shadowy region, he can catch 
no glimpse of the existence of the supreme Being—the very 
fountain of our existence, and of all that glory which is above, 
beneath, and around us. The logical conclusions are the same 
in both cases, though landed in by different routes. Kant, 
however, admits the existence of the Deity, and a future state of 
retribution, “ both of which articles of belief, he thinks, derive 
the whole of their evidence from the moral nature of man;” but 
they are not indicated by the principles of pure reason. In the 
schools of Heyne and Kant, the admission of any fact or doc¬ 
trine, which breaks the natural chain of historical events, and 
the development of the human mind, is considered as an offence 
against sound criticism, and high treason against reason; for she 
alone can seize the mystery of existences, and the intimate nature 
of beings; and experience is nothing but a vain appearance, and 
destitute of every species of reality. 1 Ocellus Lucanus tells 
us that there is an isthmus placed somewhere in the neighbour¬ 
hood of the moon, and which forms the boundary between the 
residence of the gods, where all is invariable, and the material 
universe, wdiere every thing is in a state of endless change and 
revolution; the fates having drawn this line of demarcation, to 
separate the passible and corruptible part from that which is 


i See Stapfer and Ancillon. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


251 


impassive and incorruptible, or, in other words, subject to neither 
motion nor change. In like manner, the region of reason, as 
described by the Kantian philosophy, is pure and changeless, 
lleason is the measure and arbiter of all things; it is there that 
we must investigate those necessary forms, those radical catego¬ 
ries, which lie at the foundation of all our knowledge: whilst, 
on the other side of the isthmus, every thing is turbulent and 
revolutionary; reason has become incarnate; she has contracted 
an alliance with the senses, the passions, the imagination, and 
the prevailing systems of the day. 

That man must be a stranger to what has constituted, during 
the last half-century, the glory of German literature, who is igno¬ 
rant of the immense influence which the schools of philology and 
philosophy have exerted upon the current of national feelings and 
ideas. This will facilitate the explanation of one of the most 
remarkable moral phenomena, which presents itself in the history 
of the human mind:—how a nation of a character so serious and 
sober, as jwofoundly religious as they are circumspect and re¬ 
flecting, should have been hurried away, by all the tendencies of 
their intellect and literature, into an order of ideas subversive of 
all belief, and of a religion founded upon a historical basis. In 
order to qualify a person, in Germany, for performing the func¬ 
tions of the sacred ministry, and particularly for filling the chair 
of an academic professor, he is instructed, from the very first, 
with an extraordinary care, in all the branches of philology and 
philosophy, which are in contact with the spirit and languages 
of antiquity, and in the principles of metaphysics and psycholo¬ 
gy, enchained to those of rational or positive religion. This is a 
course of study, founded in the nature of things; for there is no 
doubt that he is the best theologian, who, to the study of sacred 
books, under Divine assistance, brings the knowledge and re¬ 
searches of the profound philologist and philosopher. But here 
a real danger presents itself to the German students. Habitu¬ 
ated as they are, to subject every thing to the laws of the under¬ 
standing, and disposed as they are, in every thing, to accord the 
pre-eminence to scientific interests, they give way, from the very 
outset of their career, to the seducing desire of rejecting or 


252 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


emasculating every opinion which they cannot amalgamate with 
their favourite studies, or incorporate into that system ef ideas, 
which has become unto them an essential part of their moral ex¬ 
istence. In all the questions which concern matters of faith, as 
they are prepossessed in their judgments, they manifest a lean¬ 
ing towards those decisions, which bear an analogy to the ope¬ 
rations to which they have been habituated by their preceding 
studies; the practical importance, the injurious effects which 
these decisions may entail upon the morality or tranquillity of 
the people, vanish before the demands of abstract principles; the 
stimulus of curiosity, the thirst for aggrandizing the domain of 
human intelligence, and the satisfaction of enlarging the boun¬ 
daries of researches, on which reason prides itself at the expense 
of the natural sense of Scripture, exercise a secret and corrupting 
influence;—their overwhelming voice imposes silence upon the 
words of the sacred writers, that are the most clear, and upon 
moral interests, which carry along with them the most convincing 
evidence. They subject every thing to the tribunal of the human 
understanding—they admit nothing which they cannot com¬ 
prehend and bring down to its measure—they consider every 
thing as doubtful and suspicious, which is not reducible to clear 
notions and facts not merely attested by undeniable witnesses, 
but conformable to the laws of the reigning psychology and 
metaphysics—the supreme rule, whose application decides the 
credibility of events and the truth of doctrines. In this manner, 
the candidates for the sacred ministry arrive at their course of 
theology, and more slowly at their public functions, having 
already determined to see nothing in the annals of the Hebrew 
people but mythical traditions, which ought to be disengaged of 
their enveloppe symbolique, and translated from the language of 
antiquity into our own, in order to reduce them to an ordinary 
and rational narration—to see nothing in the appearance of 
Divine love upon earth, in the coming of a Redeemer, but a high 
degree of moral energy , at which man had arrived by his own 
proper efforts, and with the succour of a providential education. 1 


1 Stapfer— Archives du Clnistianisme. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


253 


If such were the principles and tendencies of the rationalizing 
school in Germany, it may now be inquired, with some degree 
of propriety, what were the ultimate conclusions in which they 
rested upon the subject? As, through the instrumentality of 
the theory of accommodation , and the new historical exegesis they 
had eliminated, by little and little, all the sublime doctrines and 
fundamental truths of the Gospel, it was evident that nothing 
was left for them but the inculcation of an elevated morality and 
a pure religion of reason. Christianity had now become the 
“glass in which every philosophy might, in turn, reflect its own 
image/’ and Scripture was the hieroglyphic, to the decyphering 
of which every philologist might bring his own favourite system 
of interpretation. Since the days when Christ first delivered 
his doctrines, veiled under symbolical forms, to his “ ignorant 
and wonder-hunting disciples;”—since the days when the ban¬ 
ner of the cross first floated upon the capitol of the “ eternal 
city,” reason had been winning her conquests, the great intellec¬ 
tual advance had been silently progressing, and the features of 
eternal truth had become more prominent in their outline, and 
more definite in their proportions. Mankind had too long lis¬ 
tened to the dark oracular responses of a dogmatic theology— 
too long had they “ bowed a patient knee” to the idols of super¬ 
stition, instead of offering up their adoration in the legitimate 
temple of nature, and holding “high communion” with the 
“ quick spirit of the universe.” On the one hand, reason had 
been given to us as the guide of our conduct, and the arbiter of 
our destinies; but her powers had become enervated, and her 
deductions had been superseded by the mysterious apprehension 
of faith. On the other hand, the realization of our moral life 
was our “being’s end and aim;” but man had wandered from 
his proper sphere—he had “doubled wide heav’n’s mighty 
cape”—he had been looking out for supernatural assistance, and 
seeking absorption in the victor. True, we are curiously com¬ 
pounded—intellect is at war with the passions—there is a 
perpetual antagonism in the very principles of our nature; but 
man ought to know, that, dark as his condition is, he is left 
to his own internal resources, and he ought to be duly conscious 


254 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


of that energy of soul with which nature has endowed him for 
the struggle. The conclusions of the rationalists may therefore 
be easily summed up. Believe in nothing, expect nothing! 
This was the first step to wisdom. All, besides, was prejudice 
and false philosophy. 

The following passage is extracted from an address which ap¬ 
peared under the assumed character of a rationalist in the Evan- 
gelische Kirchen-Zeitung (for October, 1827); but it contains so 
much truth, and is written with so much delicacy, that it can by 
no means be considered as a caricature. “They (the orthodox) 
fancy themselves frail in their nature, and fallen from the ori¬ 
ginal perfection of the human race; we recognize our own dig¬ 
nity, and deem it not one atom less than on the day when man 
first came forth from the hands of his Creator. Abject humility 
is the basis of their noble virtue, self-respect of ours. They seek 
their renovation by the suppression of their natural inclinations; 
we desire to become nothing else than what we are, and only 
wish to ennoble the inclinations that actually belong 1 to our na- 
ture, and embellish them by cultivation. They place their whole 
reliance on a Mediator, from whom they expect supernatural 
assistance; we rely on the natural jjowers implanted within us, 
which are fully competent to the attainment of good, and only 
require direction from the more instructed among us. They 
lower the Godhead down to their conceptions, as a Being suscep¬ 
tible of anger, love, and pity; we, with more becoming reverence, 
endeavour to raise ourselves up to the lofty and infinite Creator 
of the world. They expect, in minute detail, the acceptance of 
their prayers; we also recommend prayer; but only because we 
deem it, from its reflex power, a sufficient means of moral eleva¬ 
tion. They hold all their weaknesses for sins, and look to their 
religion as a means of reconciliation with God; we think too 
highly of man to imagine that a little weakness should be able 
to tarnish the lustre of his high, lofty virtues; and we believe that, 
where a man’s general life is good in the main, he pleases God, 
and needs no reconciliation. They perceive in their sacraments 
deep mysteries, and approach them with a dread of which 
we know nothing, because we look upon them only as lively 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


255 


indications of something higher. They figure to themselves 
heaven and hell, a resurrection and a future meeting, in wonder¬ 
fully varied colours, drawn from the eastern imagery of Scripture; 
we are satisfied with the perception of the immortality of our 
spirit, and do not conceive, for a moment, that this immortality 
requires the continuance of our personality; far less can we 
reconcile the notion of a place of torment with the goodness of 
God. They lay the greatest stress on faith, and make it an in¬ 
dispensable condition of Christian salvation; we are persuaded 
that God is alike indifferent to all modes of faith, and regards 
only our actions.” 1 

It would appear, from the history of the human mind, that no 
system of religion, which overlooks the feelings of the heart of 
man, and directs itself exclusively to the intellect, can ever con¬ 
tinue long without producing a reaction; whilst, on the other 
hand, it is equally clear, from the same source of evidence, that 
no system of religion, which, without satisfying the reason, ap¬ 
peals only to the senses, the imagination, and the feelings, ever 
existed, without forcing the really intellectual portion of the 
community into the gulf of scepticism. The cumbrous ceremo¬ 
nies, the degrading superstitions, and the demoralizing orgies, 
which were frequently connected with ancient paganism, seem 
to have driven many of the philosophers into a contemplative , 
rather than a practical religion—to offer up their adoration in 
the templa sapientum serena, which they had reared in the wil¬ 
derness of a metaphysical theology, and the thoughtful abstrac¬ 
tions of their own intellect. The eclectic philosophers of the 
Alexandrine school, who went forth with the sublime intention 
of erecting a rational system out of the ruins of all preceding 
creeds, found that they had doubled the darkness instead of 
dissipating it, and became so bewildered in their speculations 
that they took refuge in the shrine of a spiritual apotheosis. 
“ The age which produced the scholastic philosophy, produced 
also one of the earlier schools of mystical theology;” and, on 
the other hand, the solemn mummeries of the Catholic religion— 


i Rose’s Protestantism in Germany. Appendix, p. 37—8. 




256 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


a religion which does not appear to possess sufficient expansi¬ 
bility for a period of advancing civilization—drove the elite of 
the French nation into a denial of all revelation, and, in many 
cases, into absolute atheism. In Germany, the cold and scien¬ 
tific school of Wolfius, superseded by the still more scientific 
school of Kant, generated a reaction, and mysticism acted as a 
counterpoise to rationalism, which had dried up the heart, and 
blighted the finest feelings of our nature. Though the rational¬ 
ists had boasted so much of the dignity of reason—though they 
had considered “logic as the only lamp of life, and where this 
failed the region of creation terminated;” yet they began to feel 
a vacuum in their moral existence, and they knew no other plan 
of remedying the matter than by administering to the senses and 
to the imagination. Many of them began to complain of the 
dryness of the Protestant mode of worship—of their “ dark gothic 
churches, with their old-fashioned sing-song music, monotonously 
drawled out, and the liturgy inherited from their ancestors, whose 
modern patches still betrayed the crude belief of elder days. 
Instead of those once loved popular addresses, which border 
almost on vulgarity, an elegant rhetorical sort of composition 
should be introduced, and by the choicest elegance, the hearer’s 
taste for the beautiful, and his faculty of judgment would be 
formed and improved. We should also take care, by softly- 
melting tones of music, to awaken the slumbering sensations, 
and elevate them on the wings of enlightened reason, to the lof¬ 
tiest intelligence and the noblest resolutions. No blind belief, 
but lofty virtue, must be the object -of our meditations. We 
must throw around us master-pieces of creative art and beauti¬ 
ful forms, that we may recall our spirits from cold realities into 
the region of the ideal.” 1 “ Some of this school (says Mr. 

Rose) seemed to regret on these grounds the destruction of that 
Heathen religion which was so entirely a religion of the sen¬ 
ses, and contended that the Esoteric religion of the Greeks 
in their mysteries, was, in fact, the Christian system, which 
only revealed openly what the mysteries taught in private.” z 


x Evangelisclie Kirchen-Zeitung. 2 See Schelling’s Philosophic, &c. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


257 


This is part of the philosophical system of Schelling, who has 
passed the “ flaming bounds both of space and time,” and lost 
himself in the regions of a mystical pantheism. Many of Schel- 
ling’s disciples, we are told, have “embraced the Catholic reli¬ 
gion, not because it is the true religion, but because it is the most 
'poetical; and hence rosaries are sometimes to be seen in the 
hands of those who reckon Spinoza among the greatest pro¬ 
phets.” “ Hoc unum postulabant, ut phantasia et sensus commo- 
verentur ” 1 “Religion, it was said, is a child of fancy, and 
whoever wishes to exhibit it, must exhibit it for the fancy, which 
alone can call up the infinite in intellectual contemplation, and 
find it in the finite. Therefore religion must be presented, not 
in cold dogmas, but in symbolical facts; and in order to produce 
a religious sense and feeling in men’s minds, there is need, not 
of direction and instruction, but of a worship, rich in ceremonies 
and ornament, by the application of the fine arts; and then in 
its sensual representations and symbolical proceedings, the ob¬ 
server would see the loftv and divine .” 2 

Since individual caprice was the only arbiter, it would be na¬ 
tural to expect that many of the rationalists would arrive at dif¬ 
ferent conclusions; and, in fact, we are satisfied that no formula 
can be framed sufficiently comprehensive and definite to em¬ 
brace all the variety of their opinions. Some of them were 
scarcely aware whither their efforts were leading them, and some 
had determined the matter beforehand;—some occasionally sub¬ 
mitted reason to revelation, but more frequently revelation to 
reason;—some, after all their researches, still seemed to feel a 
lingering attachment for a religion founded upon historical facts, 
and some landed in pure deism. But, however, we are con¬ 
vinced that we are doing the rationalists no injustice, when we 
say that the spirit and aim of all their reasonings were to get rid 
of every fact and doctrine which is distinctive and characteristic 
in Christianity. Christianity was merely a “part and parcel” 
of that numerous family of religions which had been introduced 


i Borger de Mysticismo. p. 177. 

2 Tzschirner’s Continuation of Schrockh. Vol. 9, p. 635. 

2 G 



258 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


into the world at different periods; but it was the province of 
reason to generalize all religions, to reject all their peculiarities, 
and to extract only such elements as might be found to be per¬ 
manent and universal. When Christianity had once emerged 
out of the mists of incomprehensible dogmas, and the trammels 
of ecclesiastical bigotry, then, in a great measure, it would lose 
its sectarian character, and its diffusion would become co-exten- 
sive with the principles of reason. “ Then there would be 
amongst us a communion in which rational truths would no 
longer enter under a veil covered with mysterious hieroglyphics, 
but stand forth with unabashed countenance in full power and 
might; and, if once the forward-moving giant-steps of clear 
knowledge could cast down the thin wall which separates the 
Christian and the Jew, the Parse and the Indian, the Budhist 
and the Lama-worshipper, then would one temple erect its holy 
walls, and throw its sacred vault over all the worshippers of 
reason; no difference of religion would again separate mankind, 
and fear, and dread, and superstition would be unknown on 
earth .” 1 

It could not be expected that controversies of such a nature 
could be carried on for such a length of time, and by such able 
disputants, without generating either an utter carelessness of all 
religion, or, at least, a painful scepticism upon subjects of the 
most vital importance. But whatever repulsiveness we may 
feel to the doctrines of the rationalists, we should endeavour, in 
estimating their conduct, to mingle charity with justice. It has 
been pleaded in behalf of the German eruditi, that the whole 
economy of their existence has been too purely intellectual — 
that they have been too much habituated to the exclusive consi¬ 
deration of the ivants of speculative reason, and paid too little 
attention to those of the heart of man and his nature, when 
taken in its totality. The elite of her writers, we are told, have 
been chiefly those who were engaged in university education, 
or belonged to professions which require more of learning and 
analytical talent than knowledge of the human heart; and. 


1 Evangelische Kirchen-Zeitung. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


259 


whatever profound or seducing theories they might have con¬ 
structed, they could not have tasked their solidity as instanta¬ 
neously as those who had participated more in the collision of 
active life. The political situation of the Germans may also be 
looked upon as unfavourable to the character of the literati. 
The loss of that legitimate influence which they ought to have 
exerted upon the great theatre of human action, could only be 
compensated by extending the boundaries of their intellectual 
empire—an empire whose liberties cannot be restricted by the 
diplomacy of a Metternich, or bartered away after a “ sallad of 
murder and te deums .” When governments have become some¬ 
thing more than mere “ committees of war and finance,” Germa¬ 
ny will again rise like a phenix from her ashes, and she will be 
considered something more than “ the great mart of ideas which 
are practically applied everywhere but in Germany.” 

We do not say that there does not exist in the nature of man 
a sufficient fund of intellectual pride to account for all the phe¬ 
nomena of rationalism; and what we have brought forward, we 
wish merely to be considered as secondary causes, favourable for 
its development, and powerful in their reaction upon our corrupt 
nature. The watchword of rationalism was “ overturn, overturn! ” 
she found herself mighty in destruction, but when that period 
had passed away, she was “shorn of her strength,” and her 
glory had departed from her. Her disciples then found that 
they had made themselves a “fearful wreck of old opinions”— 
that they were at war with the very laws of their own existence, 
and that their extensive researches had only plunged them into 
a scepticism more systematic and profound. Naturalism, eu- 
daimonism, mysticism, and pantheism were seen “ striving to¬ 
gether in all hopeless courses .” 1 


i “The sagacious reader will discover, by my writings, that I have been 
especially called to serve the cause of truth and humanity, in following a 
path hitherto unknown. I have been, at different times, Lutheran, sceptic, 
infidel, a friend to natural religion, a convert to Christianity, a Christian 
with paradoxical sentiments, and more and more heterodox. In me has been 
seen a thinker tormented within by his own reflections, and a writer tor¬ 
mented from without, because he has been at one time hated, at another mis¬ 
understood. Bold and enterprising in my actions, I have always seen, with 




260 


LITEIIAHY PANCRATIUM. 


* * * * “ They thought 

Too long and darkly, till their brains became 
In their own eddy boiling and o'er-wrought, 

A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame.” 1 

“For the last thirty years and upwards (says Stapfer), 
German literature has presented a spectacle which cannot be 
parallelled in any other epoch of history, or amongst any other 
nation. Enthusiasm without faith, a scepticism not calm and 
deliberative, but hostile to the true interests of man, and allied 
to a disgust at life, anarchy in the fundamental principles, 
absence de tout point de ralliement, a disorder in their ideas, a 
fondness for the extravagant and fantastical—reason, at one time, 
intoxicated by her authority, and at another, despairing of her 
prowess, seeking her triumph sometimes in the annihilation, and 
sometimes in the apotheosis of our nature, here in a species of 
suicide worthy of a fakir , there in a self-control more than Sto¬ 
ical:” 2 —such have been the most prominent characteristics of 
the popular literature of Germany. 

From every moral death there is a new life; and it will afford 
matter of consolation to the Christian, and matter of reflection 
to the sceptic, when they learn that the German theologians are 
gradually returning to their former firm belief in the Divine origin 
and doctrines of Christianity. “The want of the age is taking 
voice and shape in Germany; that change from negation to 
affirmation, from destruction to re-construction, for which all 
thinkers in every country are now prepared, is already in action 


a faultering heart, the dangers which threatened me, and from which Provi¬ 
dence has saved me in part. I have made little account of domestic happiness, 
of friendship, or society. I have suffered the penalty. Occupied in curing 
others, I have neglected the health of my own soul. Esteem is due to the 
sincerity of my opinions, rather than to my conduct. I desired ardently to 
make it perfect, but this would have required more perseverance, and more 
attention, than the meditation of abstract truths; accordingly I have been 
oftener dissatisfied with myself than with others, with whom, however, for 
the same reason, I have been rarely satisfied. My heart has had little enjoy¬ 
ment of the consolations of religion, because every occasion led me into dif¬ 
ficult researches, and thus weakened the force of sentiment. I regard myself 
as a man and a Christian, such as there are but few in the world, and such as 
it is not desirable that there should be many.” — Basedow. 

. 1 Byron’s Childe Harold. 2 . Archives du Christianisme. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


261 


there.” The sceptic perhaps may be disposed to view the mat¬ 
ter with less suspicion, when lie is told that this alteration in the 
views of the German theologians has not originated from any 
changes that have been effected in the constitution of the 
churches to which they belong, or from any new tests of orthodoxy 
that have been imposed upon them by the “ powers that be.” 
The facts, however, are of more universal interest; and the spirit 
of regeneration, which is abroad in Germany, has sprung up 
from the elasticity of our moral nature , which has risen in vin¬ 
dication of its rights against the exclusive dominion of pure rea¬ 
son .* The following illustration, from a French writer, shews 
very beautifully, how the mind may become blinded to the per¬ 
ception of moral distinctions by the flux and reflux of a thousand 
passions; and it may be applied with equal force to Christianity, 
as it has been circumstanced in Germany, and the aspect which 

it is now assuming.-“The heart of man (he says) may be 

considered, allegorically, as an island almost level with the water 
which bathes it. In the pure white marble of the island are 
engraved the holy precepts of the law of nature. Near these 
characters is one who bends his eyes respectfully on the inscrip¬ 
tion, and reads it aloud. He is the lover of virtue, the genius 
of the island. The water around is in continual agitation. The 
slightest zephyr raises it into billows. It then covers the inscrip¬ 
tion. We no longer see the characters. We no longer hear 
the genius read. But the calm soon rises from the bosom of 
the storm. The island re-appears, ivliite as before, and the genius 
resumes his employment .” 

Germany, the classic land of theology and philosophy, has 
sometimes been termed, in this country, the “ land of lumber;” 
but there is some satisfaction in reflecting that such an observa¬ 
tion could only proceed from what the Germans would call the 
Philistines, “ gui damnant quod non intelligunt .” It is really 
pitiful to “ see an honest traveller confidently guaging all foreign 
objects with a measure that will not mete them; trying German 
sacred oaks by their fitness for British ship-building; walking 


* See Appendix. Note 7. 








262 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


from Dan to Beersheba, and finding so little that be did not 
bring with him.” We do not deny that the reader will find 
many wild extravaganzas amongst German writers, but he will 
also find that they have “profitable things to say;” we do not 
deny that, in his pilgrimage through this “land of promise,” he 
will find that all its productions have a jueculiar idiosyncrasy 
which smacks of the raciness of the soil, but he will find nothing 
which, with any propriety, can be termed lumber, as long as the 
authors of the assertion will condescend to keep out of it. A 
taste for German literature is becoming daily more and more 
predominant over the whole continent of Europe. The tran¬ 
scendental philosophy of Schelling has already been natural¬ 
ized in France by the transparent diction of Cousin, and has 
been received with enthusiasm by the energetic youth of that 
country. This indicates that a better taste is gaining ground 
amongst our neighbours; for, whatever may be the merits or 
demerits of Scheleing’s philosophy, its tone is certainly more 
elevated, and its views of the nature and destiny of man are more 
sublime, than those of any other system which has hithert o pre¬ 
vailed amongst them. The classical scholar of our own country 
will never forget the immense debt of obligation which he is 
under to German philologists and German critics; and the the¬ 
ologian, who is acquainted with what has been done in his own 
department, is well aware that, though their writings contain 
much “that is grossly objectionable in a dogmatical point of 
view, yet they have done more towards establishing the integrity 
of the bare text of Scripture, scientifically investigating its vari¬ 
ous idioms, and fixing just principles of grammatical and histo¬ 
rical interpretation, than any other writers upon the same sub¬ 
ject.” 1 

These, therefore, appear to be satisfactory reasons why a 
growing interest should be manifested with respect to German 
literature. On the one hand, the increasing number of those 
who study the German language, and the increasing attention 
which is paid to the subject by our literary periodicals; and, on 


i, Henderson’s Elements of Biblical Criticism. Preface, p. 7. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


263 


the other hand, the various manuals and elementary works, which 
appear, from time to time, naturalized amongst us, in a British 
costume, seem to indicate that the literati, both of this country 
and America, are fully alive to the utility of appropriating the 
fruits of German researches—of accommodating them to the 
wants and habits of the national character, and transmitting, 
through this medium, an impulse to the “native endeavour.” 
“German literature (says a writer, from whom we have already 
quoted) has become national, idiomatic, distinct from all others— 
the most rapidly spreading, and the most incessantly fluctuating 
object, even in the spiritual world. Within these forty years 
how much has been united, how much has fallen asunder! Kant 
has superseded Wolf; Fichte, Kant; Schelling, Fichte; 
and now it seems Hegel is bent upon superseding Schelling. 
Baumgarten has given place to Schlegel; the Deutsche Bib- 
liothek to the Berlin Hermes; Lessing still towers in the dis¬ 
tance like an earth-born Atlas; but in the poetical heaven, 
Wieland and Klopstock burn fainter, as new and more 
radiant luminaries have arisen.” 1 

In speaking on this subject, another observation suggests 
itself to our mind. Mr. Rose, in his “ Protestantism in Germany,” 
seems to us too much disposed to undervalue the learning of 
the rationalists; and the whole construction of his work, which 
gives us an insight into the results rather than the modes of their 
reasoning, may perhaps have a tendency to favour the conclusion. 
For our own part, we feel no sympathy with the opinions of the 
rationalists—that their learning was very frequently misapplied 
we do not deny, but that, after all, they were scholars, we can¬ 
not but believe. When Ammon, in his preface to ErnestUs 
Institutio Interpret is, tells us, that when Jesus is said, by the 
Evangelist, to have walked upon the sea, the interpreter can now 
give the real meaning, which is, that he waded as far as the shoal 
ivater would permit, and after that, began to swim ;—when Am¬ 
mon mentions this as an improvement, which has been introduc¬ 
ed since the time of Ernesti, we know that this blunder is 


i Edinburgh Review. No. 105, p. 166. 






264 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


committed through no deficiency of scholarship—that Ammon 
is merely supporting a theory, and that the interpretation is 
sufficiently in accordance with the contemptuous manner in 
which he has spoken of the miracles of our Saviour, since he 
has forsaken rationalism. But we are not adverting to their 
character as rationalists, but merely as scholars. Mr. Rose may 
lament that “ the really illustrious scholars of Germany, the 
Bockhs, the Thierschs, the Welckers, and theBuTTMANS,did 
not occasionally, at least, turn from the pages of profane litera¬ 
ture, to shed the light of their great talents and profound re¬ 
searches on the interpretation of Scripture.” Mr. Rose may do 
this, and we demur not to his lamentation; but when he tells us, 
that the majority of the rationalists “ were not scholars of an 
high order—that they were learned men, as far as reading and 
collecting could make them,” we cannot away with it! We do 
not wish to depreciate the learning of the orthodox; for, we are 
well aware that in the days when that change, which is already 
in operation, has come over the spirit of the dream in which the 
Germans have been so long entranced, the names of Storr 
and the illustrious school of Tubingen, who disputed the career 
of rationalism, step by step, will be remembered with something 
more than regret. But, if the orthodox have claims upon our 
admiration, the rationalists have also claims upon our justice. 
Is not Eichhorn a scholar? Is not Gesenius a sholar? And 
may not the same title be applied to Henke, Bauer, Eckerman, 
Schmid of Jena, Paulus, De Wette, Wegscheider, Tief- 
trunk, Dathe, Vater, Augusti, Rohr, Doderlein, and Ro- 
senmuller, &c.P Has the Leipsic catalogue made no mention 
of them? Was not all Germany agitated by their lucubrations, 
and were they not considered as scholars in a country where 
scholarship is something more than a name ? We do not deny that 
mere plunderers of the camp, whose presumption is in proportion 
to their ignorance, may be found in the train of the rationalists 
as well as the orthodox; but, if these men were not scholars, 
then, there are no scholars—then we will allow with Moore 
that revolution has not confined itself merely to “ thrones aud 
steeples,” but has u commenced in the dictionary;”—that there 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


265 


are no laws by which scholarship can be determined, and that 
" every man must shoulder his musket, and be a law even unto 
himself.” 

But il the rationalists were scholars, it need excite very little 
surprise; for, in this respect, they only partook of the general cha¬ 
racter of their countrymen. The completeness and extent of that 
curriculum of education, which is accessible to the German stu¬ 
dent in the gymnasia and universities, cannot be parallelled in 
any other quarter of the globe. The sober march of professorial 
instruction in this country can convey to us no idea of the in¬ 
tellectual activity that prevails in the universities of Germany. 
“ They are a race most patient of toil. It has been said of 
Michaelis, that he was so identified with his profession, that 
he never was happy but when reading lectures, and all the days 
in his calendar were white, except the holydays. His mantle 
seems to have descended on the greatest part of his followers, 
between the Vistula and the Rhine. At Jena, Stark, whose 
peculiar department was the obstetric art, was lecturing, at one 
hour, on the theory, and, at a second, in the lying-in hospital, 
on the practice of midwifery; at a third, upon surgery; at a 
fourth, on the diseases of the eye; and, at a fifth, was giving 
clinical lectures in the infirmary. Kieser, another celebrated 
member of the same faculty, was occupying two different hours 
with two separate courses in medicine; for a third, he announced 
animal magnetism; and, for a fourth, the anatomy and physio¬ 
logy of plants. The professor, who lectured on the pandects, 
was reading three hours a day, two of them successively—an 

enormous task both for him and his pupils .” 1 2 -“ I found, at 

Gottingen, in the philosophical faculty, where, in regard to 
languages, philosophy alone is the object, no fewer than four 
professors armed with Greek, two with Latin, and two with Ori¬ 
ental literature. One draws up the Gospel of St. John and the 
Acts of the Apostles; a second opposes to him the first three 
Evangelists, the fourth being already enlisted by his adversary; 
the third takes them both in flank, with the f Works and Days* 


1 A Tour in Germany, in the years 1820—2. Vol. 1. p. 148—9. 

2 H 






266 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


of Hesiod; while the fourth skirmishes round them in all direc¬ 
tions, and cuts off various stragglers, by practical lucubrations 
in Greek syntax. Now, if people think that they will learn 
Greek to better purpose, from Professor Eichhorn’s Acts of 
the Apostles, than from Professor Tyschen’s three Gospels, 
the latter must just dispense with his students and rix-dollars, 

* When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war.’ 

The former gentleman again leads on in Oriental literature, under 
the banner of the book of Job; the latter takes the field, undis¬ 
mayed, and opposes to him the prophecies of Isaiah. But 
Professor Eichhorn immediately unmasks a battery of ‘Pre¬ 
lections in Arabian and Professor Tyschen, apparently ex¬ 
hausted of regular troops, throws forward a course of lectures 
on the ‘ Ars Diplomatic a,’ to cover his retreat .” 2 

To analyze the character of any individual, and to view it in 
connexion with the causes and circumstances by which it has 
been modified, must ever be an interesting employment for the 
mental faculties; and certainly we cannot allow that the inter¬ 
est is diminished, when, turning our attention from individuals 
to nations, we inquire into that aggregate of causes—physical, 
intellectual, and moral,—into that natural environment and those 
positive institutions which enter, as so many elements, into the 
formation of national character. To investigations of this kind, 
the abstract curiosity of our nature, when combined with the 
intense anxiety of ameliorating our condition by the experience 
of the past, will ever challenge the attention of more than mere 
speculative inquirers. It is true that we do not, as in physical 
researches, possess any manner of control over the subject of our 
inquiries,—we have no power of placing it in new situations—of 
trying it by a variety of tests; yet it is equally true that all his¬ 
tory is nothing but a record of experiments upon human charac¬ 
ter,* * and that if men will but deal honestly with their under¬ 
standings, the quantity of data, accumulated after the lapse of 


a Id. p. 354—5. 

* See page 224—5, of the present work. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


267 


nearly six thousand years, must be adequate for any such ap¬ 
proximation to truth, as may be available for practical purposes. 
As human nature, and the susceptibilities of human nature, are 
the same in all ages and countries, it is evident that a solution 
of the problem must be sought for in that variety of causes and 
circumstances, from the “form and pressure” of which, in any 
given case, it may have received its particular modification:— 

“We are what winds and suns and waters make us: 

The mountains were our sponsors, and the rills 

Fashion and win their nursling with their smiles.” 

Pervading, as it does, all these diversified manifestations of indi¬ 
vidual and national character, it is this identity of the principles 
of our common nature which makes the philosophy of history to 
be really worthy of the name of a science—which, though not 
in an equal degree, yet, in some degree, subjugates the pheno¬ 
mena of mind to the same rigorous laws of induction, as the 
phenomena of matter, and renders a knowledge of the very ec¬ 
centricities of the understanding subservient to a study of its 
laws. 

“It is of the highest importance (says Stapfer), that the 
theologian should have a profound knowledge of the state of his 
science, in the different periods of its development, and the 
causes by which it has been modified. How much inferior to his 
task must that professor be, whose instruction is confined within 
the limits of the age to which he belongs, and who has drawn 
the elements from no other source than the works which are ac¬ 
credited by the reigning opinion! Every age has its peculiar 
points of predilection. It appreciates better that which satisfies 
the wants which have been called forth, or more sensibly excited 
by the progress of society, or a new impulse given to its labours; 
but it often loses sight of the wants no less real, the interests no 
less inseparable from the condition of man, when they are not 
intimately connected with those which absorb, for the time, the 
attention of the literati. It is then evident that, in every age, 
the exposition of the Christian doctrine runs the risk of being 
falsified by a too exclusive direction given to the intellect, and by 
the predominance of certain interests, which throw into oblivion. 


268 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


or abstract from our attention, other aspects of human nature 
no less worthy of the solicitude of that man who does not wish 
to deprive it of any of the succours accommodated to our weak¬ 
ness, by a religion so marvellously adapted to the incalculable 
variety of our necessities .”—“ These observations are singularly 
proper to inspire us with a salutary distrust in the authority of 
that which we are accustomed to call reason; that is to say, the 
result of an impartial and successful investigation of the truth, 
but which is almost always nothing but the effect of an impulse 
communicated to the human mind by a want or a sentiment 
which the circumstances of personal position, or a particular 
state of civilization, have rendered predominant either in an in¬ 
dividual or a community, at a given period! And ought not the 
same observations to inspire us with a great deference for doc¬ 
trines submitted perpetually to fresh verifications, to the constant 
examination of men of the most different moral and intellectual 
culture, and to the trial of every degree of intelligence, doubt, 
strength, and weakness, which falls to the lot of humanity?” 1 
As, in every age, there have existed the same speculative and 
moral causes, which, independent of all modifications of society, 
have a tendency to betray us into unbelief; so it would be na¬ 
tural to expect that the objections which have been started, at 
any period, against the system of Christianity, would be extracted 
from such elements as may happen to have been floating upon 
the surface of the literature, the philosophy, or the erudition of 
the day. In fact, the weapons of infidel warfare have undergone 
as frequent mutations as those which have been employed for 
the destruction of the species. The attack has been always 
continued, though the modes have been varied:—as the head 
of every new formation has been swept away, some changes have 
been introduced either in their arms or their methods of using 
them—in their tactical combinations or their strategical move¬ 
ments. Airy and detached speculations have sometimes been 
succeeded by systematic philosophy and hazy metaphysics— 
blundering and flippant criticisms have sometimes been super- 


1 Archives du Christianisme. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


269 


seded by an immense apparatus of philological erudition, and in¬ 
fidelity has sometimes ascended from the abyss of ribaldry to the 
high platform of cultivated reason. “For as the tempers and 
geniuses of times alter (says Stillingfleet), so do the arms 
and weapons which atheists employ for the destruction of religion. 
The most popular pretences of the atheists of our age, have been 
the irreconcilableness of the account of times in Scripture with 
that of the learned and ancient heathen nations ; 1 the incon¬ 
sistency of the belief of the Scriptures with the principles of 
reason; and the account which may be given of the origin of 
things, from principles of philosophy, without the scriptures.” 2 
In Hobbes we see a subtle, though undisguised, advocate of the 
most downright Machiavelism :—not merely that power is power, 
but that power is the foundation of right. All virtue, according 
to this writer, ultimately resolves itself into the narrowest sel¬ 
fishness; for human beings are, naturally, beasts of prey, and 
the great Leviathan, or “governing body,” is appointed to watch 
over them, not merely for the express purpose of preventing them 
from tearing each other to pieces, but with the exclusive privilege 
of drinking their life-blood, as it “gurgles from their veins.” As 
all religions are founded upon superstition, they ought to be 
looked on in no other light than as mere political engines; for 
they have all been equally impositions upon the multitude—all 
equally contemptible to the philosopher,' and equally useful to 
the statesman. “ There is scarcely a point in the whole compass 
of Christianity, or of Christian evidence (says Mr. Pusey), which 
was not, in a regular progression, sifted by the English deists. 
Herbert, by substituting a natural theology for revealed doc¬ 
trine, and by assigning man’s natural instinct as the source of 
his knowledge of truth, the universality of the reception of those 
truths, as the test of their being thus derived, laid a broad foun¬ 
dation for all the theories and criticisms of his successors. The 
distinctive character of the Christian miracles was disguised by 
Blount ; the morality of the Gospel criticized from a false point 


i Scaliger, when speaking of the study of chronology in his time, says, 

“ Omnes hoc ferrum excandefaciunt.” 4 Origines Sacrae. Preface, p. 14. 




270 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


of view by Shaftesbury; the evidence from miracles and pro¬ 
phecy was separately (and, therefore, as evidences, unfairly) 
judged by Woolston and Collins; the theory of rationalism 
was proposed with plausibleness, consistency, and roundness, 

though without depth, by Tindal.” -“The French unbelievers, 

from the unsystematic character of their minds, and from their 
recklessness about the establishment of any fixed principles, fol¬ 
lowed individual objections into a minuter detail, but without re¬ 
ference to any general theory; they aimed at destroying, without 
attempting to replace, Christianity; the English deists, from the 
predominant practical character of our nation, were generally 
determined, in their investigations, by what appear to be of moral 
practical importance; the German, who, from his more specula¬ 
tive character, pursues inquiry for its own sake, followed his 
system with more consistency whithersoever it led him.” 1 2 

Observations similar to those which have been hazarded in 
the preceding paragraphs, may be applied, with an equal degree 
of propriety, to that important subject, at the discussion of which 
we have now arrived. We shall, however, waive them for the 
present, as, in all probability, we shall find a more convenient 
opportunity of incorporating them into the body of our subse¬ 
quent reflections. 

3. Theologi<e objectum est ipse Deus.—Habent alia omnes scien- 
tice sna objecta , nobilia eerie, et digna in quibus Humana mens con- 
siderandis tempus, otium, et diligentiam adhibeat. Here una circa 
Ensentium et Causam causarum, circa Principium naturae, et gratia; 
in naturd existentis, naturae adsistentis, et naturam circumsistentis, 
versatur. Dignissimum itaque hoc est Objectum et plenum vene- 
randee majestatis, prcecellensque reliquis.” x The existence of the 
Deity, his nature and attributes, have, in every age, engaged the 
attention and elicited the energies of the most eminent theolo¬ 
gians and philosophers—in every age they have given birth to 
the profoundest speculations, and in every age they have adminis¬ 
tered food for meditation and gratitude to the sincere and humble 


i Historical Inquiry into the causes of German Rationalism, p. 124. 

2 Arminius. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


271 


inquirer. The all-absorbing relations, which subsist between 
rational beings and the Deity, confer upon the subject a perma¬ 
nent and universal interest. When we are inquiring into his 
existence, we are not inquiring into the existence of some inde¬ 
finite abstraction; for he is our Creator, our Governor, and our 
Judge, and the revelation which he has made of his own charac¬ 
ter and attributes, involve the only rationale of our present con¬ 
dition and our future destiny. All our physical organization 
and functions, “ for we are fearfully and wonderfully made,”— 
all our intellectual faculties, even in the majesty of their daring, 
and all our diversified emotions, in the very depth of their ca¬ 
pacity, are so many partial manifestations of his inexhaustible 
power, wisdom, and goodness. “In him we live and move and 
have our being.” All the world that is without us—all the 
materialism of creation, however gorgeous and splendid, is 
nothing but a temporary mechanism, constructed and kept in 
play, for the purpose of administering to our necessities, our 
comforts, and our pleasures. All the various conditions in 
which we are placed, all the benefits that we enjoy, and all the 
afflictions that we suffer, are so many probationary states, sub¬ 
ordinated to the moral administration of the Deity—tending to 
develope the happier phases of our moral character, and advance 
them to perfection. The whole course of individual and national 
history is nothing but a panorama, exhibiting, in operation, the 
abstract attributes of his nature; and the whole supernaturalism 
of revelation unveils to us the principles of his government, 
initiates us into his secret counsels—a beacon for our researches, 
a guide for our conduct, and a supplement to the feeble efforts 
of reason. And when we strip oft’ this muddy vesture of decay, 
we strip it for the sake of putting on immortality, and being 
admitted into the immediate presence of Him who “ inhabitetli 
eternity.” We shall still be the subjects of his administration— 
we shall still obtain a fuller revelation of his character, and be 
assimilated more and more to his glorious perfection, in bound¬ 
less progression and infinite approximation. He is “ Alpha and 
Omega, the beginning and the end.” He is “All in All,”—“ an 
all-comprehending and an all-comprehended, the one create 


272 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


and the other uncreate, the former comprehended in the latter, 
and lost like a drop in the ocean, in the all-comprehending, all- 
pervading, and all-sustaining fulness.” 1 By speculations of 
this kind, the mind is not merely exercised, it is exalted; and 
the contemplation of the Deity, as subject neither to decay nor 
mutation, when contrasted with the successive generations of 
our species, gives a sort of intellectual sublimity, even to our 
sense of physical weakness. All other speculations dwindle 
into nothing, when estimated upon so gigantic a scale. When 
we emerge out of them into this wider range of inquiry, we feel 
like the traveller who has retreated from the feverish bustle of a 
crowded city into the amplitude and solitary grandeur of an 
Oriental temple. “ The inquiry into the existence of the noblest 
of beings—into the existence of Him, to whom we look as the 
source of every thing which we enjoy and admire, is itself surely 
the noblest of all inquiries on which man can enter; and the 
feelings with which we enter on it, should be of a kind that is 
suitable to the contemplation of a nature so noble, even as pos¬ 
sibly existing.” 2 When ascending to these sublimer subjects, 
the mind seems to expand, as if already shaking off its earthly 
fetters, 3 and aspiring after that spiritual apotheosis which awaits 
it —“ portus et Sabbat/mm omnium humanarum contempt at ionum ,” 
the harbour and Sabbath of all human contemplations. 4 

It is an observation no less just than satisfactory, that all the 
truths, which it is most important for man to know, and all the 
duties, which it is incumbent upon man to perform, lie so near 
the surface, that they are tangible to every capacity; that when 
they are once stated in their naked simplicity, it is almost unne¬ 
cessary to enforce them with argument, or expand them by illus¬ 
tration. But, when we have allowed this, it only renders it still 
more difficult to account for the singular phenomenon:—that the 
most important truths, and those which carry along with them 
the most convincing evidence, have generally betrayed their 


1 Howe. 2 Brown’s Philosophy, &c. 3 “ Cura animus ilia tetigit, 

alitur, crescit, ac velut vinculis liberatus, in originem redit.”— Seneca Nat. 

Qusest. 4 Bacon. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


273 


advocates into the most bewildering speculations, so as almost to 
superinduce, upon the inexperienced student, a suspicion that 
there must be some obscurity in doctrines which require to be 
defended by reasonings so obscure. 

Perfect knowledge, it has been said, is perfect quiet, and so is 
perfect ignorance; but not so the transition from one to the other. 
T -0 observe, therefore, that ignorance, as well as knowledge, is 
the bond of unity, may perhaps have a tendency to conciliate 
the wounded vanity of speculative inquirers; and such an ob¬ 
servation may perhaps be considered a sufficient answer to those 
querulous objectors who think that the opinions of all men 
should revolve in one perpetual cycle of uniformity,—who 
imagine that the world “ goes by clockwork, and yet have no 
notion how clockwork goes.” “ The greatest men are always 
the least orthodox, 1 because they think most; and men who 
think for themselves cannot fall into the common tracks, at 
least for a long line of road. The ignorant and dull, on the 
contrary, who do not exercise their understandings, but the 
memory only, learn easily to repeat the watchwords of some 
narrow sect, which, as they are few in number, are not easily 
forgotten; and having no originality to lead them astray, they 
outbid their superiors, and produce more of the only coin that 
is current, and have nothing to fear but the more tenacious 
memories of their inferiors in ability.” “ Every low and igno¬ 
rant fellow may thus grow into a sour bigot, and, it may be, 
into an oracle and a prophet; and in that capacity may imagine, 
that it is his duty to seek to shape the conduct and creed of 
wiser men, according to the misconceptions of his wayward 
fancy.” 2 

But if we allow all this, by way of the “ retort courteous,” is 
there not, on the other hand, a real danger, that an over-rcjinc- 
ment of speculation may plunge us into unnecessary difficulties; 


x Orthodoxy is here taken in its most enlarged acceptation. The writer is 
speaking of that spirit of intolerance, to which he attributes the “utter 
extinction of the ancient glory.” 

2 Encyclopaedia Britannica.—Art. Antiquities, by James Hogg, Esq. 

2 I 



274 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


so that the defence of important doctrines is often undertaken 
upon very debatable grounds, and their establishment often 
left to the mercy of a species of evidence which their nature 
will not admit of? This may be termed the original sin of the 
human understanding; and it is so much more difficult to 
guard against it, because it derives its origin from the same 
principles of our nature as our love of knowledge. When we 
have been once habituated to a certain train of arguments, how 
apt are we to overlook their force, and undervalue their im¬ 
portance ! How often do we permit the most convincing 
evidence to be superseded by mere metaphysical quibbles, 
like the foolish warrior, in Hornet', who exchanged his golden 
armour for armour of brass ! There are many important truths, 
which, if allowed to carry along with them their unsophisticated 
evidence, would appear to us not so much the results of any 
process of reasoning, as intuitive principles of belief, would 
we but consent not to torture our understandings, for the pur¬ 
pose of rendering them difficult! However far we may push 
our physical and intellectual researches, the limits of our mental 
faculties will still form a barrier, in all cases, equally insur¬ 
mountable : there will be always wonder and mystery, where 
every thing is mysterious and wonderful. When the mind has 
once become bewildered with the contemplation of a difficulty, 
we shall commit a huge mistake, if we imagine that we gain 
any thing either by doubling or exchanging it. Our efforts 
may be employed, and that too, successfully, in rendering it 
more complicated, and the mind may, perhaps, feel itself relieved 
by viewing it under a new aspect; but we shall commit a mis¬ 
take equally gross, if we imagine, that, because we have ad¬ 
ministered relief to the understanding, we have also administered 
relief to the difficulty. “ When Plato devised his doctrine of 
sion or ideas—a doctrine naturally suggested to an imaginative 
mind, by the fixedness and universality of the terms of language, 
as contrasted with the perpetual variation of the course of na¬ 
ture.—When he assigned to these abstract natures, a real being, 
as objects of intellectual apprehension alone, accounting for the 
existence of sensible objects from their “ participation” of these 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


275 


intellectual universal, Aristotle lost no opportunity of hold- 
ing 1 them up to ridicule, as being mere TepsTurpotTa,, overthrowing 
all science, by multiplying, instead of reducing to certain 
definite principles, the variety of the objects of contemplation. 
* It is like (says he) any one wishing to reckon, but who, 
thinking himself unable when he had less, should make more, 
and then reckon/ ” 1 * 

“ ^ here is a great, and, as it were, a radical distinction be¬ 
twixt geniuses, as far as pertains to philosophy and the 
sciences:—that some geniuses are more rigorous and better 
adapted to remark the differences of things, and others to ob¬ 
serve their resemblances. A steady and acute genius can fix 
his contemplation and dwell upon the minutest differences: 
and a sublime and discursive genius can discover and combine 
the most subtle and universal resemblances. Both these may 
easily fall into excess, by grasping either at the shadows of 
things or their gradations, prensando aut (/radios rerum , aut 
umbras. 7 ’ 2 It is against this excess, that metaphysical phi¬ 
losophers ought especially to be warned. In vain is it to 
represent many of these abstract speculations as a salutary 
intellectual discipline; for they do not develop the characteristic 
excellencies of a sound, but the distempers of a subtle, under¬ 
standing. As Bacon says, they may give us a knowledge of 
words, but they “ let things slip through.” They may initiate 
us into the logical concatenation of an author’s ideas, in ac¬ 
cordance with the hypothesis that he may have assumed; but 
they initiate us into nothing more, and all the rest is dialectic 
subtlety and abstract moonshine. They are mere intellectual 
nightmares, which, instead of invigorating, oppress the under¬ 
standing ;—there may be “ wisdom in them, but, at least, it is 
recondite wisdom;—there may be sense, but, at any rate, it is 
not common sense.” “ We do not say, that acuteness or subtlety 
is to be neglected; for without these no doctrine can be well 

O 7 


1 Hampden’s Philosophy of Aristotle— Encyc. Brit. 

^ Bacon.— See Locke’s Essay, &c. B. 2. c. 11. § 2.— Malebranche’s 

Recherche de la Verite. Liv. 2. § Partie c. 9. 




276 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


understood. Who would be satisfied with being deprived of 
all the advantages of subtlety, or nice discrimination, which 
enable us most certainly, briefly, clearly, and orderly, to learn 
any thing ? But when we have so learned it, all is to be brought 
to the test of common life; so that it may appear what we 
have learned for ourselves, what for others, what for the schools, 
and what for every day’s use.” 1 
These observations will render it less necessary for us to dwell 
at any length upon those metaphysical refinements which have 
been introduced by various theologians and philosophers, for 
the purpose af overthrowing or establishing our belief in the 
existence of a Deity—a doctrine which is the basis of all religion, 
whether natural or revealed. Hume imagined that he had 
set aside all reasoning, from effect to cause —from the existence 
of an universe, which everywhere exhibits marks of intelligence 
and design, to the existence of an intelligent and designing 
Creator, by the denial of all relation betwixt cause and effect, 
except that of mere sequence and antecedence. From experi¬ 
ence, according to his reasoning, indeed, we learn, that there 
are many events which are constantly conjoined, so that the 
one invariably follows the other ; but it is possible, for any thing 
we know to the contrary, that this connexion, though a constant 
one, as far as our observation has reached, may not be a neces¬ 
sary connexion; nay, it is possible that there may be no neces¬ 
sary connexions, among any of the phenomena we see; and if 
there be any such connexions existing, we may rest assured 
that we shall never be able to discover them. 1. To say that the 
connexion betwixt specific causes and specific effects, from the 
classification of which all our ideas of the laws of nature are 
derived—to say that such a connexion is necessary, in the sense 
of its being the only one that could have been established, for 
the purpose of accomplishing the object in question, would 
indeed be to limit the omnipotence of the Deity, and to give 
properties to matter, which are independent of his creating will, 
or his controlling power.* But to say that there is a necessary 


1 Morus— Dissert. Theolog. et Philolog. * See page 212of the present work. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


277 


connexion betwixt causes and effects, in the sense, that when 
an order of nature is once established, a certain consequent will 
always, under the same circumstances, succeed a given antece¬ 
dent, is to say something that is rational and comprehensible; 
for it is nothing more than the statement of a fact which is 
cognizable either by the senses or the understanding, which 
has occurred, is occurring, and will occur again, as long as the 
same order continues to exist. 2. The cause is the antecedent, 
and the effect is the consequent; and the invariable antecedence 
and sequence, are the only intelligible ideas involved in the word 
jwiver. To consider power, therefore, as some mysterious tie of 
connexion, as something which is, at the same time, a “part and 
not a part” of the antecedents and consequents, is to harbour 
an illusion which is founded upon the realism of language, and 
upon the fact that all progress in our physical researches is 
nothing more than a discovery of more complicated processes, 
and more mysterious agencies. All these discoveries are, how¬ 
ever, the discoveries of nothing more than other antecedents 
and consequents; and our minutest investigations give us no 
clearer ideas of the abstract term “power,” than the casual 
observation of the most ordinary phenomena. The interme¬ 
diate connexions, which we may not hitherto have observed, 
still only form part of the series; we discover nothing more 
than invariable antecedence and sequence, and all the rest is 
mystery as before. 3. Our knowledge of the relation that sub¬ 
sists betwixt specific causes and specific effects, or, in other 
words, that certain antecedents will always, under given circum¬ 
stances, be followed by certain consequents, must necessarily be 
the result of experience ; but our notion of the abstract term 
“ causation,” and our belief in the permanency of the laws of 
nature are derived neither from experience nor from any 
elaborate process of reasoning. The notion and the belief 
equally originate from the fundamental laws of our mental 
constitution; but the law by which events or phenomena are 
classified as causes and effects, is as distinct from the objects so 
classed, as the laws of memory and association are distinct 
from the objects that are either remembered or associated. 


278 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


That there should exist in the mind this instinctive tendency 
to convert the past into the future is, indeed, wonderful; hut 
considering the striking adaptation that everywhere exhibits 
itself in the world within and around us, it would be more 
wonderful if it did not; for without it, we should not be able 
to preserve our animal existence; we should have no guide 
for our conduct; we should remain “powerless amidst elements 
that are waiting to obey us,” and victims of confusion in the 
midst of harmony and order. 4. This, after all our endeavours 
to comprehend and simplify the subject, is the result of our 
investigations, and the great argument, that every effect must 
have a cause, that objects exhibiting marks of design indicate 
a designing agent, remains as before; for, after all our meta¬ 
physical refinements, it “flows in upon us with the force of a 
sensation.” “ This first question then, which is indeed a ques¬ 
tion of fact, being thus settled upon observations, which are ob¬ 
vious and unrefined, but not on that account the less satisfactory, 
it becomes the business of the philosopher to inquire, whether 
the conviction arising from these observations be founded on 
the conclusions of reason, the reports of experience, or the 
dictates of feeling, or possibly upon all these together; but, if 
his principles shall not be laid so wide as to account for the 
fact already established upon prior evidence, we may, I think, 
safely conclude that his principles are erroneous. Should a 
philosopher pretend to demonstrate to me, by a system of optics, 
that I can only discern an object when placed directly opposite 
my eye, I should certainly answer, your system must be de¬ 
fective, for it is contradicted by a matter of fact.” 1 

“To take it for granted (says Suskind) that we are not 
deceived by our reason, is indeed an assumption, the truth of 
which we cannot prove; but, at the same time, it is one which, 
as rational beings, we must necessarily make. The plain dic¬ 
tates of nature, that is, those dictates which originate from the 
essential nature and activity of our reason, are, therefore, of 
indisputable certainty and truth. And their validity extends. 


1 Sir Gilbert Elliot’s Letter to Mr. Hum£. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


279 


not only to the appearances of things, but also to the things 
themselves, to which these appearances refer; nay it extends 
even to things which are not objects of sense; so far as the 
general and essential principles of reason oblige us to form 
judgments concerning them, or to bring them under our con¬ 
sideration. To attempt to prove that the laws of our reason 
are not applicable to things themselves, would be an attempt 
to prove, that we are deluded by reason : the attempt itself, 
therefore, would involve a self-contradiction; for the proof 
would have to be conducted by the aid of reason, and would 
necessarily pre-suppose that very validity of reason, which it 
was intended to overthrow. To these pure dictates of reason 
belong those of a theoretical, as well as those of a practical nature.” 
“ It would be inconsistent to acknowledge the validity of the 
latter only, while we doubt or deny that of the former; for it is 
the same reason which, in the one case, determines what is good, 
and in the other, what is true. It is, therefore, impossible to 
have a constant (i. e. a rational) belief of the validity of the 
practical principles of reason, without also admitting the validity 
of its theoretical dictates. But it is on these theoretical and 
practical principles of reason, which are also decisive of the 
actual existence of ourselves and of the visible world, that the 
rational belief of a God, as a self-existent intelligence, distinct 
from the world, as an intelligent and holy author of the world, 
is founded.” 1 

But if those who have endeavoured to overthrow our belief 
in the existence of the Deity, have demonstrated nothing but 
their own impotence and folly in the attempt, we are sorry to 
observe, that equal impotence, if not folly, has been manifested 
in the arguments which have been brought forward by many 
of the advocates of this important doctrine. The universal and 
almost instinctive assent, which is given to a certain class of 
truths, has induced many philosophers and theologians to con¬ 
sider our conceptions of them, as the original furniture of the 


i Magazine fur Christliclie Dogmatik und moral, Stuck 12 § 23—38, and 
§ 47—48. 





280 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


mind, as innate ideas, in contradistinction to those which are 
acquired by actual observation or a refined process of reason¬ 
ing. * 1 If we grant, therefore, the question which is first in 
point of order, namely, that innate ideas do exist in the mind, 
it would be natural to suppose, before we had ascertained 
either their nature or their number, that they would be im¬ 
planted in us as the stamina of all our mental operations, and 
the elements of all our future acquisitions. After we had 
granted this, it would be equally natural to suppose from mere 
reasoning, a priori, that the idea of God would also be included 
in this category of innate conceptions; that, consequently, it 
would supersede all reasoning, and flash upon us with a light 
clearer than that of demonstration. Such a supposition, upon 
the assumed hypothesis, we should feel to be more imperative, 
because it is an idea that stands the “ first of the first rank”— 
because it is essential to the fulfilment of our duty, and, there¬ 
fore, to our individual, social, and political well-being. It 
would be equally natural to suppose that such an idea would 
not be merely an indefinite idea of some superior being, but a 
definite idea of the Deity, involving a clear apprehension of his 
various attributes in the amplitude of their range, and the ful¬ 
ness of their perfection. The only question, therefore, that 
now remains, is a question of fact:—whether these theories and 
hypotheses are realized in the experience of actual life! Do 
we find this idea, antecedent to all reasoning and experience, 
universally diffused amongst the species, and modelled accord- 


i Pulcherrima multa sunt Platonis dogmata—esse in divina mente 
mundum intelligibilem; quem ego quoque vocare soleo regionem idearum; 
objecta sapientiae esse ra, ovrug ovt a, substantias nempe simplices, quae a 
me monades appellantur, et semel existentes perstant, hxnxa, rng £uvg, 

i. e. Deum et animas, et liarum potissimas mentes, producta a Deo, simulacra 
divinitatis. Porro quaevis mens, ut recte Plotinus, quemdam in se mun¬ 
dum intelligibilem continet, imo mea sententia et hunc ipsum sensibilem 
sibi repraesentat. Sunt in nobis semina corum, quae discimus, ideae nempe, 
et quae inde nascuntur, aeternae veritates. Longe ergo praeferendae sunt 
Platonis notitice innate, quas reminiscentice nomine velavit, tabulae 
rasae Aristotelis et Lockii, aliorumque recentiorum, qui sfcmpixws phi- 
losophantur. Leibnitz, Opera. Tom. 2. p. 223. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM, 


281 


ing to the standard which we have here indicated ? Or, on 
the other hand, do we find that we obtain this idea by instruc¬ 
tion, and that we are ignorant of God, as of any thing else, in 
proportion to the want of it ? Do we find that the ideas on 
this subject which float in the hereditary traditions of bar¬ 
barous and uncivilized tribes, are equal in justness and ac¬ 
curacy to those which prevail amongst communities, where the 
intellectual powers have been awakened and their enemies 

o 

called into action ? Again, do we find that the conceptions of 
the most intellectual among the Pagans, with respect to the 
Deity, rival, in majesty and simplicity, the conceptions of those 
who have been favoured with a supernatural revelation of his 
nature and attributes P These are plain questions, but the 
answers that will be returned to them are decisive of the point 
at issue. The whole hypothesis of innate ideas has originated 
from confounding the fundamental laws of human belief with 
its fundamental objects, and converting the ease and universality 
with which some truths are apprehended, into a reason why 
they are not apprehended at all, but implanted. It certainly 
requires no great strength of intellect to discover that two and 
two make four, or to infer the existence of the Deity from the 
traces of design exhibited in the universe; but these truths, 
easily apprehended as they may be, involve a process of reason¬ 
ing, and certain it is that we were born with a knowledge nei¬ 
ther of the one nor the other. The objects of the intellect must 
not be confounded with the principles—the capacity for ac¬ 
quiring is distinct from the acquisitions. 

Equally trifling, and, therefore, equally unsatisfactory is the 
argument in favour of the existence of the Deity, which has 
been brought forward, not from the idea of God considered as 
innate, but as involving, in its own nature, the rationale of his 
existence. It may certainly be granted, that all our ideas of 
the Deity, with respect to their constituent elements, are derived 
from the conceptions which we have formed of our own nature 
and faculties, by refining them of all their grossness, and ab¬ 
stracting them from all limitations. “It is true (says Brast- 
berger), the attributes which I ascribe to God are properties 

2 K 


282 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


which I find in myself; only they arc conceived apart from 
those limitations and particular determinations which they have 
and must have in me. It is true, that the removal of these 
limitations and particular determinations, leaves me only general 
conceptions, which can never have an actual existence. And 
it is further true, that as soon as we wish to determine those 
indefinite conceptions or properties, we are compelled to ascribe 
to God finite and limited attributes. But, notwithstanding 
this, our knowledge of God is neither vain nor contradictory. 
For, when I ascribe to him human attributes, such as under¬ 
standing and will, with the removal of the particular determi¬ 
nations of our finite understanding and will, my idea amounts 
to this : ‘ If I possessed the faculty of knowing God immediately, 
I should find in him only such properties as could and would 
effect every thing which my faculties would effect, if they could 
ever be divested of limits, and extended to infinity. This 
knowledge of God is by no means so definite and perfect as I 
could wish, yet it is perfectly adequate for that purpose, for 
which, in general, faith in God is necessary/’ ” 1 

Granting, therefore, that the Deity does exist, it must also 
be granted that he is self-existent; for self-existence is the 
vinculum of all his other perfections. We allow that there is 
certainly an impropriety in the term; but the term self¬ 
existence must only be taken in its negative meaning, namely, 
that he is a being who derives his existence from no other. 
This has been, though rather unfortunately, designated by 
many theologians, his necessary existence; and the variety of 
meanings, which may be put upon the term necessary, has con¬ 
tributed to obscure and perplex an idea, which, from the in¬ 
adequacy of our faculties and the very nature of the subject, 
will always be sufficiently obscure and perplexing. Because, 
upon the assumed idea, it is impossible for us, in our inmost 
conceptions, to separate the self-existence of the Deity from his 
essence; it has, therefore, been contended, that the idea itself 
carries along with it a proof of his existence. But is not this 


1 Essay on the ground of our belief in God. p. 104—7. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


283 


mere reasoning in a circle; for how would such an argument 
tdl against an atheist \ ou tell him that unity, spirituality, 
omnipotence, omnipresence, &c. are the constituent elements 
of your complex idea of the Deity, and that the being who 
possesses these attributes, who is creator and governor of all 
things, must, of necessity, be self-existent. He answers, that 
your abstract definition is nothing but the analysis of the con¬ 
nexion of the notions of your own mind, and that the certainty 
and necessity of your conclusions are nothing but the con¬ 
sistency with your original meaning. He answers, that the 
method of “ proving the existence of the self-existent Being 
from the absolute perfection of his nature is vurtgov tt^ote^ov, a 
mere scholastic quibble; for all or any perfections pre-suppose 
existence, which is petitio principii.” 

The argument of Dr. Samuel Clarke may be dismissed 
with equal brevity. " To be self-existent (says this acute 
reasoner) is to exist by an absolute necessity, originally in the 
nature of the thing itself,” and, “ this necessity must not be 
barely consequent upon our supposition of the existence of 
such a Being, for then it would not be a necessity absolutely 
such in itself, nor be the ground or foundation of the existence 
of any thing; being on the contrary only a consequent of it; 
but it must antecedently force itself upon us whether we will or 
not, even when we are endeavouring to suppose that no such 
Being exists.” “ There must be in nature a permanent ground 
or reason for the existence of the first cause, otherwise its being 
would be owing to mere chance .” 1 

But now, is not this putting out to sea again ; and that, too, 
perhaps through sheer vexation, because there is a possibility 
of getting through the voyage without making any mention of 
metaphysics ? In our physical researches, our idea of causation 
is derived from phenomena considered as successive;* and 
when we have traced an effect to its cause, the mind is set at 
rest, because we are enabled to account for its existence. But 
when we are inquiring into the existence of a being that is 


1 Demonstration 1. 


* See p. 226—7 of the present work 





284 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


confessedly unique in his nature—to whom there can be no¬ 
thing antecedent, either in the order of nature, or in the order of 
our conceptions, it is impossible that any answer can be given 
to the speculative demands of our reason. “ God himself said, 
4 1 am ,’ and he had done. Whilst, indeed, we consider only 
inferior existences and second causes, there will always be room 
left for inquiring, why such things are, and how such things 
came to be as they are; because this is only seeking and in¬ 
vestigating the initial, the efficient, or the final cause of their 
existence. But when we are advanced beyond all causes pro- 
catarctical and final, it remains only to say, that such is our 
first cause and causality, that we know it exists, and without 
prior cause; and with this you yourself will be obliged to fall 
in, the first step you farther take ; for, if we ask you of the ante¬ 
cedent necessity , whence it is, and what prior ground there was 
for it, you must yourself be content to say—so it is, you know 
not why, you know not how.” 1 “ With what (says Stuart) 
shall we compare the existence of the Deity ? All other beings 
are derived; and, of course, there is no object in the universe 
with whose existence it can be compared. To define it, then, is 
beyond our reach. We can approximate towards a conception 
of it merely by negatives. We deny that the divine existence 
has any author or cause; and when we have done this, we 
have not defined it, but simply said, that a certain thing does 
not belong to it. Here we must rest. The boundaries of hu¬ 
man knowledge can never be extended beyond this.” 2 

Hitherto we have been occupied in clearing away those in¬ 
efficient, though well-intended, arguments with which the dis¬ 
cussion of this doctrine has been encumbered ; and it must be 
evident that the only argument which can be depended upon, 
must be based upon “ things that do appear .” This argument 
is equally popular and equally satisfactory—it is tangible to 


1 Gretton’s Review of the argument a priori. The argument from 
space must share the same fate as those mentioned in the text. Newton, 

Clarke, and others represent space as the infinite mode of an infinite sub¬ 
stance, and that substance God. Ergo, &c.—But, by the bye, space is a 
mere negation—an infinite nothing. 2 Letters to W. E. Channing. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


285 


every capacity, and it stands in no need either of extraneous 
support or doubtful auxiliaries. It may also be important to 
observe, that the visible world is the only argument which is 
either mentioned or appealed to in the Scriptures :—“ The 
heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament sheweth 
his handy-work.” “ This proof has been termed the pliysico- 
theological, and deserves at all times to be mentioned with re¬ 
spect ; it is the oldest, clearest, and best-adapted to the common 
sense of mankind. It prompts to the study of nature, which 
is its source, and which constantly gives new force to it. The 
attempt would, therefore, be no less discouraging than fruitless, 
to endeavour to detract from the worth of this proof. Reason 
is constantly receiving new strength and confidence from such 
powerful and, under her hand, ever-growing proofs ; and it is 
not in the power of any doubts of subtle and abstruse specula¬ 
tion, to depress her so far, that she should not, in every instance, 
by a glance at the wonders of nature and the majesty of the 
universe, tear herself loose from perplexing indecision, as from 
the phantoms of a dream, and rise in her contemplations from 
greatness to greatness, from that which is mediate or condi¬ 
tional to the immediate and uncaused Author of all things.” 1 

The principal features of the physico-theological proof are 
thus briefly sketched by the same writer :—1. “ We find every¬ 
where, in our world, manifest marks of adaptation to specific 
ends, works executed with great wisdom, and forming a whole 
of indescribable multiplicity, as well as of unbounded extent. 
2. This systematic adaptation of things is not essential to their 
nature; that is, if there were no rational agent who selected 
and arranged them, so many different things could not, by their 
own inherent power, have brought themselves to harmonize for 
the accomplishment of specific ends, as they now do. 3. There 


i Kant’s Kritik der Urtheilskraft 2nd Ed. p. 651.—“ It is true, we can¬ 
not comprehend the mode of the Divine agency in creation, or the nature of 
the creative will. But even the imperfect idea of creation, which, at least, 
includes a pre-existent matter, and all external auxiliary means, and as¬ 
cribes the incomprehensible work of creation to God alone, is of great im¬ 
portance to us.”—S torr. 





286 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


exists, therefore, one exalted and wise cause (or more than one) 
which produced this world, not as an omnipotent nature acting 
blindly by its generative fecundity, but by intelligence and 
volition. 4. The unity of this cause may be inferred from 
the unity of adaptation in the multifarious parts of the world, 
as in the parts of a well-planned edifice. As far as our obser¬ 
vation extends, this inference of the unity of the cause amounts 
to certainty ; and beyond the sphere of our observation, the 
same inference is derived with probability from every princi¬ 
ple of analogy.” 1 “5. Man is, therefore, compelled, by a 
theoretical and practical necessity of his reason, to assert the ob¬ 
jective existence of God ; and of this objective existence of God, 
he is as certain as of the existence of those objects which he 
perceives through his senses; for he has the same evidence for 
the existence of both; namely, that his reason is compelled to 
believe them; and this must ever be his only criterion of truth.” 2 

“We find ourselves and everything around us, (says Brast- 
berger) to the utmost extent of our observation, standing in 
such numerous relations and references to each other, and in 
such a coherent systematic connexion, that the idea of an in¬ 
tentional adaptation to rational purposes, according to univer¬ 
sal laws, or of a physical and moral world, is irresistibly forced 
upon us. But the existence of such an order of things, we can 
rationally ascribe only to an intelligence which superintends 
and arranges all things and events, to a rational mind which 
selects and acts with an intelligent reference to ends. Con¬ 
sequently, we must suppose the primary and absolute cause of 
all things to be a rational and moral intelligence. Although 
this reasoning proves only the necessity of our conceiving the 
idea of a God, and of our supposing that he really exists (for 
no proof can possibly establish the necessity of the existence 
of a thing itself, but only the necessity of our believing and 
conceiving it to exist), still it is perfectly satisfactory. It per¬ 
fectly justifies us in entertaining a rational belief in a God; 


1 Kritik der Urtheilskraft, p. 653. i Vogel in Gabler’s new The¬ 

ological Journal, for 1799, Vol. I. p. 19, 34, 109, 154, &c. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


287 


for we are brought to this alternative—we must either believe 
there is a God, or we must believe that every thing of which 
we have any knowledge, even we ourselves and all our thoughts, 
conceptions, and existence, are empty incomprehensible leger¬ 
demain ; in truth, a nothing floating about in the bottomless 
profundity of nothing H” 1 

Considering the question merely in a historical point of 
view, from what source did the idea of a God first originate 
amongst the human species ? If we assume the Scriptures to 
be what they profess to be, namely, a divine revelation, “ we 
shall not view as superfluous the fact stated in the old Testa¬ 
ment, that God himself, by his immediate influence, and in 
various ways, did awaken and cherish and strengthen, not 
only in the first persons of our race, but also in their descend¬ 
ants, those nobler feelings which produce a belief in the exist¬ 
ence of God as the supreme rewarder of all good. 2 In this 
manner, God actually instructed some individuals who were to 
instruct others in the knowledge of his character as creator 3 of 
the world, and the necessity of obedience to him, in order to 
the enjoyment of happiness. 4 By their own experience of the 
fulfilment of his promises and threats, he habituated them to a 
belief in him. 5 Such were the promise made to Abraham of a 


1 On the ground of our belief in God.—The physico-theological proof 
may be seen admirably developed in Paley’s Natural Theology.—For more 
diffuse illustration we have at present neither room nor taste, and its utility, 
in a work like the present, would be very problematical. “What is read 
slips away and vanishes from the reader’s mind, unless he has an opportunity 
of opposing the re-action, as it were, of his own intellect, to the impressions 
of the writer; and more light is thrown upon a science, by one process of 
exact reasoning which we carry on for ourselves, and it is more deeply and 
firmly rooted in us by that single operation, than by many and repeated 
trains of reasoning conducted by another.”— Beccaria. 

2 Heb. xi. 6. —See in Hess’ “ Bibliothek of Sacred History,” 2nd part, the 

Dissert.: “ The natural views of God given in the Scriptures, considered in 
their relation to the revealed views of the Divine Being.” p. 119, 149.— De 
Maree’s “ Defence of God’s permission of evil.” pt. 1. p. 115. 

3Gen.i. 4 Gen. xviii. 19. 5 Heb. xi. 1, 2,7, 19. Compare the five pro- 

gramms of Morus on the|knowledge of religion, which is connected with at¬ 
tention to facts in our own experience. Dissert. Theologies et Philologies. 
Vol. 2. No. I—V. 



288 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


numerous posterity, the promise of the land of Canaan, the 
threatening of the flood and its fulfilment. By the public* 
miracles which God wrought among the Israelites and the 
people around them, he made it evident, to those who saw and 
heard those miracles, that there was an invisible Lord of crea¬ 
tion, who was able to execute the promises and denunciations 
of their own consciences. Facts, therefore, were the means ky 
which that belief in the existence of God, as the creator and go¬ 
vernor of the world, to which even our own nature urges us, was 
anciently confirmed. And although these miracles were not 
witnessed by all men, nor indeed could be, without impairing 
their force, still the knowledge of them was transmitted by 
tradition to succeeding generations, and in various ways was 
also spread among foreign nations. 1 Now these miracles might 
contribute much to promote the knowledge of God, even among 
those who had heard only vague rumours of them, or had even 
not heard them at all. For the idea of God, which these nu¬ 
merous manifestations of divine agency imparted to the eye¬ 
witnesses of these divine acts, was, through them, communicated 
to other families or nations with whom they came in contact, 
and thus was brought into general circulation. And as soon, 
therefore, as the idea of a God has been communicated to a per¬ 
son from without, all the declarations of his own conscience 
and the instructions of nature around him, become even with¬ 
out any new external proofs of the divine existence, much more 
comprehensible and efficient. Nor can we doubt that God, 
whose providence extends to the times and places of the “ habita¬ 
tion” of all men, would cause, that those who had a more per¬ 
fect knowledge of him should be brought into connexion with 


i “ If such extraordinary acts were performed amongst all nations, and 
at all times, or if they were only frequently repeated, it would become 
matter of doubt, whether they were not the natural effects of some hidden 
powers of nature. They would become common and familiar, like the ordi¬ 
nary phenomena of nature, and thus would make little impression ; and, by 
this means, the object would be frustrated, and they would be no proofs of a 
revelation from God.”— Koppen —“The Bible, a work of divine wisdom.” 
2nd Ed. p. 58, &c. 



LITERARY PANCRATTUM. 


289 


others of humbler attainments, so that the latter might have an 
opportunity to ‘seek the Lord/ { W ei» tov Gsov, Acts xvii. 27. 
For although God, the source of all good, has revealed him¬ 
self to the heathen in external and internal nature (ot/x. 
a^iapTupov iauTov aQwsv, Acts xiv. 17.), still they have only ob¬ 
scure views and conjectures respecting a beneficent Creator of 
nature and a righteous judge; and these views need to be 
evolved by clear and distinct instructions, derived from God, 
through the medium of persons resident either amongst them 
or in their vicinity. Thus might the Athenians, 1 prior to the 
arrival of the apostle Paul, have sought instruction on religious 
subjects from the Jews, who, under the dominion of the Romans, 
everywhere enjoyed religious liberty; and thus did they in 
fact partially receive it. 2 I here pass over the earlier migra¬ 
tions of the Jews, voluntary or forced, the wanderings of the 
ancient worshippers of God, and the more recent travels of 
Christians, all of whom had various intercourse with the 
heathen.” 3 


i Acts xvii. ^ Acts xvii. 17. 3 “ An elementaty course of Biblical 

Theology translated from the work of Professors Storr and Flatt, by S. S. 
Schmucker.” Ed. Andover.—See Koppen on “ the salutary influence which 
the Bible has had on the world.” Pt. 2. p. 330, &c.— Baumgarten Crushes, 
“Scripture and reason for reflecting Christians.” Vol 1. p. 54, &c. 

2 L 






'290 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM, 


ON THE EXISTENCE OF THE DEITY. 

SECT. II. 

1. The idea of a God, in the first instance, the subject of a divine 
revelation, and afterwards preserved by tradition. 2. In¬ 
dependently of such a revelation, reason does not appear to 
be capable of developing this idea. 3. Granting this discovery, 
yet there would still exist difficulties with respect to the attri¬ 
butes of the Deity, as may easily be proved from the specula¬ 
tions of the ancient mythologists, poets, and philosophers, on the 
origin of his existence. 4. On his unity. 5. spirituality. 
6. omnipresence. 7. omnipotence. 8. providence. 

1. Upon the assumed hypothesis that the Scriptures contain 
a divine revelation, it is evident, from the remarks which have 
been made in the close of the preceding 1 section, that the idea 
of a God was, in the first instance, the result of supernatural 
instruction. Whether, therefore, the existence of the Deity 
might have been discovered by our first parents, independently 
of any divine revelation, is a problem that cannot be solved by 
an appeal to matter of fact. If, therefore, as believers in the 
divine authority of the Scriptures, we wish to push our investi¬ 
gations any farther, the proper state of the question will be, 
whether the discovery of this idea is within the grasp of the 
mental faculties, and what reasons can be offered for believing 
in its abstract possibility ? 

But, if we have taken the liberty of reducing the question 
within these limits, it must certainly be conceded, on the other 
hand, that we consider the original revelation of the idea as 
amply sufficient to account for all the phenomena that are con¬ 
nected with the subject. That the existence of a Deity, or of 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


291 


some superior governing- power or powers, has been believed by 
man, in all ages, and amongst all nations, in every variety of 
condition, and under every diversified aspect of barbarism or 
civilization, is an historical fact that stands in need scarcely 
either ol proof or comment. The question is not about the 
accuracy of the idea, as it may have been modified in different 
ages and countries, but whether an original revelation will ac¬ 
count for its existence, in all its grades of perfection or imper¬ 
fection, and notwithstanding the interval which may have 
elapsed since the date of its first promulgation P 

The influence of tradition in the preservation of opinions, 
customs, and institutions, cannot be better illustrated than by 
the fact that institutions, customs, and opinions, have been pre¬ 
served from the remotest antiquity, and still bid fair to be per¬ 
manent amongst tribes and nations who have long since for¬ 
gotten the rationale either of their origin or establishment. As 
examples of this kind, we need only mention the institution of 
animal sacrifices, and that peculiar measure of time which we 
term a week. Now, the institution of sacrifice is entirely a 
positive institution ; for it is founded upon no principles in 
reason, and no indications in nature. That the shedding of 
the blood of an innocent animal should in any measure con¬ 
tribute to propitiate an offended Deity, or avert from us the 
punishment due to our transgressions, is a proposition betwixt 
the terms of which reason can see no connexion. The mind, 
if left to its own deductions, would naturally conclude that 
such a practice could only be considered as the aggravation of 
our guilt; yet the rite of sacrifice has been established amongst 
all nations, and diffused to the utmost boundaries of our 
geographical discoveries.—The hebdomadal period is also a 
period that is purely arbitrary, for it is founded upon no 
septenary change; it does not spring, like a day, or a 
month, or a year, from the natural motions of the heavenly 
bodies. Yet the adoption of this measure of time, as well as 
the rite of sacrifice, has been almost universal. 1 The conclu- 


1 “ Very express are the testimonies of Philo and Josephus to this pur- 




292 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM, 


sion, therefore, in both cases, is, that they are the relics still 
remaining—vestiges still unobliterated of a tradition that lias 
been almost coeval with the species; and the influence of tra¬ 
dition is shewn in their preservation. 

But if tradition exerts such influence in the preservation of 
opinions and customs which are obviously unconnected with 
any principles either in reason or nature, how much more in¬ 
fluential must it be in the preservation of those ideas whose 
strength and vividness are continually reinforced by observation 
from without. To this class of truths belongs, in an eminent de¬ 
gree, the idea of a God. Tell men that a Deity exists, and their 
minds embrace it as a necessary truth ; the visible creation is 
then merely an index to the invisible Creator, and all nature 
repeats her answer to the voice of the “ Eternal.” We then 
communicate to them an impression which will be cherished, 
because it is congenial to their nature and applicable to their 
wants—an impression which will outlive all the transitory 
-phases either of barbarism or civilization. Baneful as super¬ 
stition may be, yet it has consisted in the perversion of truth 
rather than the obliteration ; and this is satisfactorily evidenced 
in the traditionary reminiscences of all countries which betray, 
in a remarkable degree, a common substratum of religious faith 
and knowledge. The mythology of all nations is, in a great 
measure, the adumbration of historical facts; 1 and the modi- 


pose. Thus the former, in his controversial treatise against Apion, Lib. 2. 
cap. 39. ‘ Neither is there any city whatever, whether Greek or Barbarian, nor 
a single nation, whither the custom of the Sabbath, on which we rest, hath not 
passed.’ And thus Philo of the seventh day: so pm <ya p s pia<; ttoaeojj, y\ 
X w ? a > ziTTiv, aXXa, ffavTo?.” —Parkhurst. The emblematic import of 
the rainbow may also be discovered amongst the confused traditions of the 
Greeks and Romans, and the Abbe Lambert tells us that it was worshipped 
by the Peruvians, in South America, when the Spaniards came thither. 
Tom. 13. 

i “ The primeval mythus, were it at first philosophical truth, or were it 
historical incident, floats too vaguely on the breath of men : each successive 
singer and redactor furnishes it with new personages, new scenery, to please 
a new audience ; each has the privilege of inventing, and the far wider pri¬ 
vilege of borrowing and new-modelling from all that preceded him. Thus 
though tradition may have but one root, it grows like a Banana, into a whole 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


293 


fications which it has undergone, may be traced up to the 
principles of human nature, as it has been affected, in different 
ages and countries, by its position and wants.* * The dis¬ 
tinguishing characteristic of all mythologies, and that which 
has given harmony to the rest, has been the existence of a su¬ 
perior power or powers—the rewarders of good and punishers 
of evil, whose kindness was to be conciliated by supplications, 
and whose displeasure was to be averted by sacrifices. To the 
express or implied sanction of such superior power or powers, 
all the ancient legislators and founders of states have appealed 
for the obligation of their laws and the permanency of their 
institutions. Amongst all nations, too, there has existed an 
hierarchical caste, either hereditary or elective, who, invested 
with unearthly functions, and addressing themselves to the 
natural fears and hopes of the understanding, have given ad¬ 
ditional fixity to these ideas by mysterious rites and imposing 
ceremonies. In an age, too, when secondary causes are not 
understood, every unusual phenomenon is considered as the 
direct interposition of the Deity; and men.are thus brought, 
by superstition, under the more immediate control of a superior 
Being, whose spirit directs the pestilence and the earthquake, 
and whose form is “ glassed” in the storm and the tempest. 
Add to this the feeling of our own imbecility, when contrasted 
with the unvarying course of nature and the agency of con¬ 
science in the superinduction of self-complacency or remorse 
for our past actions; 1 and then we think that we have enumerated 


over-arching labyrinth of trees. Or rather might we say, it is a Hall of 
mirrors, where, in pale light, each mirror reflects, conversely or concavely, 
not only some real object, but the shadows of this in other mirrors, which 
again do the like for it, till in such reflection and re-reflection the whole 
immensity is filled with dimmer and dimmer shapes ; and no firm scene lies 
around us, but a dislocated, distorted chaos, fading away on all hands, in the 
distance, into utter night.”—Westminster Review, No. 29, p. 4. 

* See Appendix, Note 8. 

i “ As it is so natural for man to review the train of his past actions, it is 
not incredible that the word religion is derived from relegere; and that its 
primary reference is to that activity of conscience which leads us to review 
the past actions of our lives.”—See Cicero de Nat. Deor. II. 28.— Gellius, 
Noct. Attic. No. 9. — Storr. 



294 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


a train of associated impulses and conceptions which is amply 
sufficient to account for the almost universal belief in the ex¬ 
istence of a Deity, to whom we are responsible for our conduct, 
and in whose “ hands are the issues of life and death.” 

These, perhaps, may be considered sufficient reasons, why an 
original revelation, with respect to the existence and attributes 
of the Deity, however it may have been perverted by ingenuity 
and superstition, should never have been entirely obliterated. 
The contingent circumstances to which we have alluded, the j:>osi- 
tive institutions, the diseased sensibility of a bewildered imagina¬ 
tion, and the rational hopes and fears of the unsophisticated un¬ 
derstanding, and all these reinforced by the visible demonstrations 
of nature and our own internal conviction, have communicated 
such a vividness to the idea of a superior power or powers, that it 
has never lost its hold of the human mind, in all its states of tran¬ 
sition, or under any variety of aspect. If any tribe of savages 
or any civilized community could be pointed out, at any period 
of history, in whose minds the idea of a God has been obliter¬ 
ated altogether, and afterwards recovered by their own native 
energy, independent of any external communication; then 
we would allow that such an instance is really an experimentum 
crucis, decisive of the point at issue. But if no such tribe 
of savages or civilized community can be pointed out, upon 
whose intellectual strength or weakness such an experiment 
has been made, then the discussion of the question must be re¬ 
sumed upon the ground which we originally occupied ; and the 
fact, that there exists no historical record of any such experi¬ 
ment having been made, must, at least, be considered a pre¬ 
sumption that no such circumstance has ever occurred. 

2. The erroneous conceptions which we are liable to form con¬ 
cerning the facility of discoveries, after they have been once 
made, have been dwelt upon at some length, in a preceding- 
dissertation.* The ease with which we are able to comprehend 
any particular truth is very naturally converted into a reason 
why it was or might have been easily discovered ; and thus we 


* See page 167—173 of the present work. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


*295 


are apt to undervalue all traditionary knowledge, because we 
have experienced so little trouble in its acquisition. We be¬ 
come so familiarized to the contemplation of the media or argu¬ 
ments by which known truths become palpable to the under¬ 
standing, that we feel ourselves almost disposed to wonder 
why philosophers ever found any difficulty in discovering them, 
or in other words, how they could ever be ignorant of them. 
The existence of the Deity is a truth so universally received, 
that it seems to force itself upon us as an instinctive dictate of 
the understanding; and it almost appears absurd to reason 
about a truth, at a knowledge of which we imagine it possible 
to arrive without any intermediate process of reasoning ! Is it 
not possible, however, nay, is it not probable, that the human 
mind would still have remained ignorant of this important doc¬ 
trine, had not the idea been developed by an original revelation, 
antecedent to all historical records P The discussion of this 
question cannot be uninteresting, neither can it be unprofitable 
in an age “ when he who knows any thing, is apt to imagine 
that he knows it a priori, through the uninstructed force of his 
own mind.” 

“ A sufficient number of facts are obvious to the most cursory 
observation, to shew that, without some degree of education, 
man is wholly the creature of appetite. Labour, feasting, and 
sleep divide his time and wholly occupy his thoughts. If, 
therefore, we suppose a first cause to be discoverable by human 
investigation, we must seek for the instances amongst a people 
whose civilization and intellectual culture have roused the 
mind from its torpor, and given it an interest in abstract and 
philosophic truth ; for to a people so circumstanced as never to 
have heard of God, the question of the existence of a first cause 
must be one of mere philosophy. Religious motives, whether 
of hope or fear, have no influence where no religion exists, and 
its very first principle is here supposed to be as yet undis¬ 
covered. Before, therefore, we can conceive the human mind 
to have reached a state of activity sufficiently energetic and 
curious, even to commence such an inquiry, we must suppose 
a gradual progress from the uncivilized state, to a state of civil 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


296 

and scientific cultivation, and that without religion of any kind 
—without moral control —without principles of justice, except 
such as may have been slowly elaborated from those relations 
which concern the grosser interests of men, if even they be pos¬ 
sible ; without conscience, hope, or fear in another life. That no so¬ 
ciety of civilized men has ever been constituted under such cir¬ 
cumstances, is what no one will deny; that it'is possible to raise 
a body of men into that degree of civil improvement, which would 
excite the passion for philosophic investigation, without the aid 
of religion, which, in its lowest forms of superstition, admits, in 
a defective degree, what is implied in the existence of a God, a 
superior, creative, governing, and destroying power, can have 
no proof, and is contradicted by every fact and analogy with 
which we are acquainted. Under the influence and control of 
religion, all states, ancient or modern, have hitherto been 
formed and maintained. It has entered essentially into all 
their legislative and gubernative institutions; and atheism is 
so obviously dissocializing, that even the philosophic atheists 
of Greece and Rome confined it to their esoteric doctrine, and 
were equally zealous with others to maintain the public religion 
as a restraint upon the multitude, without which they clearly 
enough discerned that human laws, and merely human mo¬ 
tives, would be totally ineffectual to prevent that selfish gratifi¬ 
cation of the passions, the enmities and the cupidities of men, 
which would break up every community into its original frag¬ 
ments, and arm every man against his fellow.” 1 

In our present inquiry, it must be remembered, therefore, 
that the question is not what proof the existence of the universe 
affords in favour of the existence of the Deity ; for that, as we 
have already shewn, is a proof that amounts to a demonstration. 
But the question is, what idea would the external world suggest 
to an individual who was totally uninstructed, and who had no 
notion of its origin, either by reasoning or tradition; or, whe¬ 
ther the contemplation of its visible phenomena would suggest 
any idea in addition to the phenomena themselves ? The dif- 


i Watson’s Theological Institutes. Vol. 1 . p. 298— 9. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


297 


ficulties of the problem, in the hypothetical case here assumed, 
are perhaps much greater than we are apt to imagine. Had 
such an individual, as we have here alluded to, passed the first 
years of his existence beyond the limits of this “ diurnal sphere,” 
in some region black as erebus, within the confines of chaos 
and old night; had his faculties, notwithstanding, been de¬ 
veloped by some supernatural process, ready to respond to 
every external impression, and active in the application of its 
own mighty resources :—had such an individual been then in¬ 
troduced into an universe which displays nothing but harmony 
and order, and which mirrors every perfection of the Deity, it 
might be conceded that the question, and the investigation of 
the question, would have presented themselves under a different 
and more favourable aspect. But the case is not so.—Visible 
objects are objects of sense before they are objects of observa¬ 
tion, and they are objects of observation before they become 
objects of reflection. This process, however, of converting the 
dictates of an almost instinctive experience into a guide for 
reason, indicates, in a remarkable degree, the wisdom and 
benevolence of the Deity; for it allows us time amply sufficient 
to treasure up our observations on the course of nature, at an 
age when our acquisitions are supposed to be of so very little 
value; and it initiates us gradually, though silently, into the 
mysteries of that wonderful adaptation of external nature to our 
physical and moral condition. Had we been introduced into 
the world with all the intellectual activity of manhood, our 
restless energy, being neither intimidated by danger, nor regu¬ 
lated by experience, would soon have plunged us into errors 
which would have been fatal to our existence. 

Though it would be impossible for us to calculate the precise 
quantum of influence, which this gradual accommodation of 
our senses and experience to the course of nature would exert 
upon the intellectual curiosity of an individual in the assumed 
case, yet every analogy drawn from our present condition, 
would lead us to suspect that it would be far from being un¬ 
important. Even in an age of inquiry. Bacon complains that 
philosophers will ever be too prone to wander from the domain 

2 M 


298 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


of their immediate experience, and to imagine that the germs 
of philosophic truth can be discovered nowhere except in occur¬ 
rences that are rare and uncommon. We are so habituated to 
the contemplation of the ordinary phenomena of nature*—w r e 
become acquainted with them in the latitude of popular igno¬ 
rance, as antecedents and consequents, but we very seldom take 
the trouble of employing a minuter analysis to ascertain the 
intermediate links, by which they are physically connected. 
It almost requires an effort of philosophy to inspire us with 
any admiration of the wonders of our own living mechanism ; 
we move, we feel, yet we seldom think of investigating the 
causes that modify, and the laws that regulate, either muscular 
action or nervous energy. 

If it, therefore, requires such powerful stimulants to rouse 
man, even in civilized society, into any anxious inquiry about 
the proximate causes of those phenomena which are the daily 
objects of his observation, how much stronger stimulants must 
be required to raise, to any degree of speculative curiosity, 
the savage, whose mental faculties are either totally dormant, 
or only occupied in the procurance of the necessaries of life 
and the gratification of his appetites. Such a one may be said 
to exist, it is true, but then he exists merely as an animated 
mass of elementary particles—a compound of vital, chemical, 
and mechanical properties, and the periods of his existence are 
discriminated by no other peculiarities but the physiological 


* See p. 157, &c. of the present work.—“The miracles of nature are ex¬ 
posed to our eyes, long before we have reason enough to derive any light 
from them. If we entered the world with the same reason which we carry 
with us to an opera, the first time that we enter a theatre ; and if the curtain 
of the universe, if I may so term it, were to be rapidly drawn up, struck 
with the grandeur of every thing which we saw, and all the obvious con¬ 
trivances exhibited, we should not be capable of refusing our homage to the 
Eternal Power which had prepared for us such a spectacle. But who thinks 
of marvelling at what he has seen for fifty years? What multitudes are 
there, who, wholly occupied with the care of obtaining subsistence, have no 
time for speculation : the rise of the Sun is only that which calls them to 
toil, and the finest night, in all its softness, is mute to them, or only tells 
them that it is the hour of repose.” CEuvres de Diderot. Tome 1 . p 100 
Amst. 1772, 12mo. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


299 


processes of nutrition, decay, and dissolution. To him every 
thing is unknown, and, therefore, equally wonderful; or rather, 
nothing is wonderful, for he has no corresponding susceptibility; 
his curiosity is as feeble as his knowledge, and his knowledge 
is bounded by the circle of his physical wants.* Natural ob¬ 
jects, however, even present themselves to his eye as antece¬ 
dents and consequents; however limited the extent may be, yet 
to a certain extent, he is capable of availing himself of their 
properties, and he is influenced and affected like all other 
animals, by the changes that are going on in the elements 
around him. His acquaintance with the phenomena of the 
universe is limited by its applicability to his immediate ne¬ 
cessities ; and any inferential deductions from their existence, 
or the indications of design which they manifest, are as un¬ 
known as they are unthought of—as much beyond the grasp of 
his intellect, as they are beyond the range of his ideas. Ma¬ 
terial objects are to him the only objects of existence; and how¬ 
ever far he may push his researches, it is very probable that 
they would constitute the end as well as the beginning of all 
his knowledge. All the phenomena that have ever come under 
his cognizance have, in his idea, been alivays physically con¬ 
nected as antecedents and consequents ; and to seek to resolve 
their existence into some remoter principle of causation, than 
what is involved in the facts themselves, would be to wander 
as much beyond the domain of his experience, as beyond the 
limits of his comprehension. He exists—he is capable of pro¬ 
pagating his species, and thus his own existence is sufficiently 
accounted for; and what serves as a rationale of his own ex¬ 
istence, he conceives to be a sufficient rationale for the exist¬ 
ence of all those who have preceded him. “ If the human 
mind ever commenced such an inquiry at all, in the circum¬ 
stances which we have assumed, it is highly probable, that it 
would rest in the notion of an eternal succession of causes and 
effects, rather than acquire the ideas of creation, in the proper 
sense, and of a supreme Creator.” 


* Se page 17—19 of the “ Lecture on Knowledge.’ 5 





300 


LITERA11Y PANCRATIUM. 


It would, therefore, appear that those philosophers who sub¬ 
stitute a “ spiritual deification of nature” in the place of a su¬ 
preme Creator and Governor, know as little about philosophy 
as they do about theology; for they are merely developing 
those ideas which, in all probability, would spring up spon¬ 
taneously in the mind of an individual who was totally unin¬ 
structed, either by revelation or tradition. The term nature 
is an ens rationis —a mere abstraction of the mind representing 
all existing objects; and the laws of nature are nothing more 
than the classification of the modes according to which existing 
objects either affect or are affected by each other. When we 
introduce, therefore, either nature or the laws of nature into 
discussions of this kind, we must recollect that we have intro¬ 
duced nothing in addition to the phenomena themselves; we 
have merely introduced terms which represent existing objects, 
or their “ modus operandi,” and which exhibit nothing more 
than the faculty which the mind possesses of abstraction and 
generalization. When we speak of nature and the operations 
of nature, we are speaking of the phenomena themselves, and 
the mode in which they are connected as antecedents and con¬ 
sequents ; but we are speaking of nothing more, and to imagine 
that we are accounting for the origin of their existence, or giving- 
some reason for it additional to what is involved in the phe¬ 
nomena themselves, would be as absurd as to imagine that we 
are giving a reason why the stomach digests alimentary sub¬ 
stances, when we say that it possesses a “ vis concoctrix” or 
the power of digesting them. To talk, therefore, about na¬ 
ture, as if it was some mysterious plastic energy, enveloped in 
material objects, yet not distinct from them, and the source of 
all their powers and susceptibilities to the exclusion of the 
Deity, would be to give an independent existence and an ac¬ 
tual efficiency to a personified abstraction of the understand¬ 
ing.* It is this realism in language which has enabled phi¬ 
losophers, if not to reason, yet to talk about the subject ad 
infinitum; and it has induced them to suppose that as soon as 


* See Appendix. Note 9. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


301 


they had adopted a term which represents every thing that ex¬ 
ists, the difficulty was removed, and the term was to be con¬ 
sidered as involving the rationale of their existence. 

As an illustration of the preceding remarks, we need only 
cite the opinions of Aristotle. "" Excluding from the course of 
nature, a providence distinct from nature itself, he proceeded, 
according to his system, to attribute an internal self-adjusting 
power to this linguistic abstraction. The maxim, that "na¬ 
ture does nothing in vain/ is at the base of his moral and 
political philosophy, as well as his physical.”—‘"Nature is 
thus, in his view, an animation or life of all things, 1 and realizes 
in herself those principles which were previously inherent in 
her constitution, and are then developed, when an actual effect 
is found to take place. Nothing, therefore, is produced in his 
system, which was not before in existence. What already ex¬ 
isted potentially, is simply produced into actual being, and 
manifested to our perception in some physical object.”—""The 
form, then, of every physical object being the attainment of 
such an end, and the form also constituting the being or na¬ 
ture of the object, occasion was furnished for speculating a 
priori, from the supposed perfection or view of what was best 
in any thing, to the form or law in which its nature consisted; 
and thus it is that Aristotle expressly asserts the necessity 
which belongs to physical facts to be hypothetical; dependent, 
that is, on the assumption of the end pursued by nature, in 
like manner as the conclusions in mathematics are dependent 
on the assumption of definitions.”—"" Traces of this doctrine 
may be discovered in his opinion of the eternity of the ma¬ 
terial world ; for the perfection of nature consisting in those 
ultimate forms to which it is tending, the existence of the ma¬ 
terial world has always been necessary as a condition in order 
to the end.” 

""According to modern views, design is always implied in a 
final cause. In Aristotle, it is a philosophical view of an 
intrinsic tendency in nature, analogous to the effect of design.” 


i Nat. Ausc. 8 cap. 1. O iov rt? hctoitok; Quasi a-uvea-rua-i 7 rcunv. 





302 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


“ He thinks, however, that all things attain the good of their 
nature, so far as they have something divine actuating them. 
It is this divinity in them which is the primary source of all 
perceptions of pleasure; 1 the indistinct apprehension of which 
he supposes to be the motive of exertion in all things that are 
capable of action, though they may be unconscious of its being 
so. Hence it has been maintained, that the doctrine of Aris¬ 
totle differed but little from the Pantheism of Spinoza. 2 

“The operations of nature, then, as well as the revolving 
spheres of the heavens, are divine, inasmuch as they illustrate, 
more or less perfectly, the animating principle of all motion— 
the operation of Deity itself. At the same time, it must be ob¬ 
served, that there is no notion of the Deity inculcated, as the 
creator and governor of the universe. It is simply as the life 
of the universe, the intellect, the energy, as what gives excel¬ 
lence and perfection and joy to the whole system, that his 
philosophy explores the Deity. It is, in short, pure being, ab¬ 
stracted from all matter, and therefore only negatively defined 
as without parts or magnitude, impassible, invariable, and 
eternal.”—“ In exploring, therefore, this primary being, he was 
tracing those general principles, by which the mind held to¬ 
gether the various objects of physical contemplation, to one 
ultimate law or master-principle, in which, as in a single theo¬ 
rem, all the truths of science were comprised.” 3 

But to return from this digression.—We have already drawn 
the conclusion as highly probable, that the physical researches 
of such an individual as we have instanced, would ultimately 
terminate in an eternal succession of causes and effects; but, for a 
moment, we will take the liberty of cancelling this conclusion, 
in order that we may allow ourselves a greater latitude for the 
development of the argument and the difficulties which attend 
it. We will therefore suppose, however unwarrantable such a 
supposition may appear, that though the ordinary course of 


1 Eth. Nic. VII. c. 13, Flavra <ya^ tyvaEi e%ei rt Oeiov, k. t. A. z See 

Bayle, art. Aristotle. 3 Hampden on Aristotle’s Philosophy, Encyc. 

Brittan.—An admirable analysis of the opinions of the Stagyrite. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


303 


nature might make no impression upon such an individual, 
with respect to the existence of a first cause, yet those extraor¬ 
dinary phenomena which operate within its limits, yet appa¬ 
rently violate its order, might suggest to him some indefinite 
idea of a being or beings of superior power and overwhelming 
majesty. A\ hat might be the extent and accuracy of such an 
idea, in the present stage of our inquiry, it would be very imma¬ 
terial to determine. We will suppose it to be the conception of 
some “ abdita vis,” some “ unknown energy,” whose existence 
was more palpably suggested by these manifestations, and the 
idea rendered still more vivid by his superstitious fears of the 
physical objects in which it was manifested. 

3. Granting, therefore, that some indefinite idea of a superior 
power or energy might be suggested to such an individual, yet 
the question would still recur, to what substance must we attri¬ 
bute it, or in what form is it realized ? Must we consider it as 
something that is distinct from the universe, or as the ancients 
term it the To ITav, or must we consider it as residing in some¬ 
thing that forms an essential part of it. It would appear from 
the history of the human mind, in its rude and uncultivated 
state, that the conception of a pure spirit, totally unconnected 
with matter, is altogether beyond its grasp. The scale of phy¬ 
sical entities does not constitute the golden chain which would, 
of itself, lead us to the throne of God. The contemplation of 
matter appears to be terminated by no higher principle than 
matter, and the devotion of man has ever been prone to ad¬ 
dress itself to physical existences, or embody itself in symbolical 
representations. The worship of the orporta m x%a,vu, or the 
“ host of heaven,” which appears to have prevailed, more or 
less, amongst all nations, may be adduced as a sufficient proof 
of this position. “ Looking, then, at the admirable order of the 
heavenly bodies, the Stagyrite saw, in their unvarying regu- 
larity, the immutable and eternal nature of the great principle 
on which their motions depended. He did not, it seems, attri¬ 
bute to them a proper divinity in themselves; for he refers 
their perpetuity of motion to the ultimate principle or first 
mover, the Deity of his system. But he speaks as if they pos- 


0 


304 LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 

sessed a divine nature, calling them divine bodies, and apply¬ 
ing to them the term ouung or (sons; which name, he says, was 
uttered by the ancients with a divine meaning . 1 2 He also says 
expressly, that ‘we must think of them as partaking of life 
and action’ ” 2 Phurnutus, the author of a “ Commentary on 
the nature of the gods,” in his chapter TIe^i Oi^avy, concerning 
heaven, says, “ It is probable that ©sot, the gods, were so called 
from Gems, ■position or 'placing; for the ancients took these for 
gods whom they found to move in a certain, regular, and con¬ 
stant manner, thinking them the causes of the changes in the 
air, and of the conservation of the universe: These then are 
gods (©ecu) which are the disposers (Oet^ej) of all things.”* 
“The occasional recurrences, also of eclipses and other unusual 
phenomena, which seem to interrupt the general order and uni¬ 
formity of the celestial motions, would stimulate to attentive 
observation ; for the vanity of man has, in all ages, rendered 
him eager to connect his own destiny with the heavens, while 
his timidity has prompted him to regard every apparent de¬ 
viation from the ordinary course of events as an emblem of the 
wrath, and a precursor of the vengeance of superior beings .” 3 

“ In the first ages of the world, the seeming incoherencies of 
the appearances of nature so confounded mankind, that they 
despaired of discovering in her operations any regular system. 
* * * Their gods, though they were apprehended to interpose 
upon some particular occasions, were so far from being re¬ 
garded as the creators of the world, that their origin was ap¬ 
prehended to be posterior to that of the world. The earth (ac- 


1 De Caelo, 1. 9, p. 446, Du Val; xat yot% t&to ravo/xa 6e;wj EtyGEyarcu 
7ra f a twv u^oucat x.t.X. Metaph. XIV. 8. p. 1003, “It has been handed 
down by primitive and ancient men, both that these are gods, and that the 
Divinity encompasses universal nature; but all else has been fabulously 
associated in order to influence with the multitude, and for its use in re¬ 
spect to the laws and expediency.”—“Of which accounts should one sepa¬ 
rately take this only, that they held the first beings to be gods, he might 
consider it to be divinely expressed; and as probably each art and philoso¬ 
phy has been often discovered to the utmost, and again lost, so also that 
these, their opinions, like relics, have survived up to the present time.” 

2 Hampden’s Philosophy of Aristotle. * See Appendix. Note 10. 

3 Professor Galloway on Astronomy. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


305 


cording to Hesiod) was the first production of the chaos. The 
heavens arose out of the earth, and from both together, all the 
gods who afterwards inhabited them. Nor was this notion 
confined to the vulgar, and to those poets who seem to have 

recorded the vulgar phraseology.”-“ The same notion of the 

spontaneous origin of the world was embraced (as Aristotle 
tells us) by the early Pythagoreans.-Mind and understand¬ 

ing, and consequently Deity, being the most perfect, were 
necessarily, according to them, the last productions of nature. 
For, in all other things, what was most perfect, they observed, 
always came last: as in plants and animals, it is not the seed 
that is most perfect, but the complete animal, with all its mem¬ 
bers in the one; and the complete plant, with all its branches, 
leaves, flowers, and fruits in the other.” 1 The coincidence of 
theories and opinions, in different ages and countries, would 
almost dispose us to conclude, as Professor Stewart some¬ 
where observes, that the imagination, however boundless it may 
appear, is “ limited, like a barrel-organ, to a certain number of 
tunes.” An idea analogous to that which we have cited, though 
enveloped in a more mysterious confusion of language, seems 
to be at the bottom of the pantheistic theology of Schelling, 
as it is developed in his “ Philosophical Investigations relative 
to the freedom of man, and the subjects connected with it,” and 
“ Denkmal der Schrift von den gottliclien Dingen ” des Herrn 
Friedrich Heinrich Jacobi (Tiibingen 1812,). “Agreeably to 
the representation of these works, God is that being which evolved 
itself out of a principle or ground of existence found in God 
himself (out of a nature in God), or out of a principle, which is 
indeed not intelligent, not moral, not perfect in itself, but which 
nevertheless contains in embryo, and locked up within itself, 
intelligence, morality, and perfection (which, however, are only 
potentid, only implicite, intelligent, moral, and perfect), by means 
of a series of creations (self-manifestations of God), by which 
nature was exalted and spiritualized, until it evolved itself into 
the most perfect personal being (Deus explicit us, Dens sensu 


i Smith’s Posthumous Essays on Philosophical Subjects, p. I0G—7. 








306 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


eminenti) ; or, God is the absolute identity of the ideal and the 
real, evolving itself from the original absolute confusion of the 
ideal and real. This absolute confusion, the original ground 
itself, is neither ideal nor real; yet divides itself into two 
equally eternal principles of the ideal and real; and out of the 
combination of both (by means of the subordination of the real 
to the ideal, by the transmutation of the real into the ideal) 
arises absolute identity, that is, God.”* * 

In our remarks on the underived existence of the Deity in 
the preceding section, we endeavoured to point out, how our 
inability to comprehend such a mode of existence had fre¬ 
quently induced even its warmest advocates to mystify it by 
reasonings, which as much transcend our comprehension, as they 
are foreign to the subject itself. All these hypotheses are no¬ 
thing but a return to those gross conceptions which might 
probably prevail in the infancy of reason, or which have been 
recorded as the tenets of the most enlightened Pagans. They 
were ever fancying something out of God, as the cause of his 
immortal being; fate, or external necessity, or some similar and 
vague notion, which obscured, as to them, one of the peculiar 
glories of the “ Eternal Power and Godhead,” who, of and from 
his own essential nature, is, and was, and shall be.” 1 The all- 
absorbing relations which subsist betwixt the Deity and ra¬ 
tional beings, as we have already shewn,* render the determi¬ 
nation of his nature and attributes a matter of overwhelming 
importance; and our views of those relations will be affected 
according to the ascription or negation of any particular attri¬ 
bute. He has created us, and, therefore, we are his ; he has 
established laws, and, therefore, he claims our obedience—he 
has given us a revelation, and, therefore, he demands our faith 
and our gratitude. In our inquiries, therefore, into the attri¬ 
butes of the Deity, it cannot but be interesting to observe the 
difference which exists betwixt these attributes, as they are de- 

* See Appendix. Note 11. 

i “ Deus sine dominio, providentia, et causis finalibus, nihil aliud est 
quam Fatum et Natural Newton’s Principia.—Scholium sub fine. 

* See page 270—2 of the present work. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


307 


veloped in the Scriptures, and as they have been apprehended 
by the most enlightened Pagans ; and the extent of our obliga¬ 
tions will be in a corresponding ratio to the extent of this 
difference. 

4. The unity of the Deity may be considered as one of the 
most commanding attributes of his nature; and our miscon¬ 
ceptions of this doctrine will not only detract from our ideas of 
his dignity, but would effect an entire revolution in the whole 
course of our duties, as relative to this superior power or powers. 

“ Polytheism has a necessary and unavoidable tendency to 
lead the human mind into other errors; as is clearly evinced 
by the history of man. The idea of Deity, whenever it was 
not raised to monotheism, always became more and more gross. 
One Deity was considered as differing from another; and, con¬ 
sequently, they were not all viewed as perfect patterns of every 
moral and other excellence ; some were necessarily represented 
as lacking in morality and perfection ; in short, the idea of God 
was depressed to the level of humanity, and was debased by 
human passions.” 1 

We should, however, feel very diffident in asserting that the 
unity of the Deity is a truth which is placed within the grasp 
of unassisted reason. To whatever part of the vast tract of 
profane history we turn our attention, we see religion per¬ 
petually debased by polytheistic notions; though its primary 
doctrines might be preserved in the mystical form which was, 
at a very early period, established. “ Nor is the transition 
violent from a vague idea of an omnipresent Deity, to the be¬ 
lief of a separate divine essence in different places and in dif¬ 
ferent things. On the contrary, the superstitions of almost all 
nations prove it to be congenial to the human mind in its 
unenlightened state ; which, unable to exalt its thoughts to 
the steady conceptions of one almighty and boundless Being, 
naturally satisfied itself with ascribing all effects, of which it 
knew not the causes, to the immediate presence and agency of 
distinct powers. In the manufacture of gods, unbounded scope 


1 Ewald’s Religionslehre der Bihel. Vol. 1. p. 12—13. 






308 


LITER Alt Y PANCRATIUM. 


was given to the imagination ; and thus, even in Homer’s time, 
divinities were so multiplied, that nobody any longer cared to 
say how many there were not. Nor was the balance of power at 
all well adjusted in the hierarchy of the Greek polytheists. Ju¬ 
piter, the chief of their gods, was neither omnipotent, nor omni¬ 
present, nor omniscient; and as perfect goodness was nowhere 
to be found in heaven any more than upon earth, perfect hap¬ 
piness was equally a stranger to its inhabitants.” 1 

5. “God is a spirit.” Such is the declaration of Scripture; and 
all the anthropomorphic expressions which may appear to have 
a contrary tendency, can be considered in no other light than 
as condescensions to our understanding, as representations of 
the operations of the Deity, drawn from the analogies of human 
organization; yet sufficiently guarded against by these ex¬ 
press declarations of his nature, and by the whole course of 
his conduct with respect to the occasional aberrations of the 
Israelites into idolatry.—God is a spirit, and therefore, he must 
be worshipped in spirit and in truth. The whole history of 
anthropomorphism is a commentary upon the importance 
of this doctrine, and the moral with which it is connected. 
Wherever the Deity has been conceived as invested with an 
human form, he has always been conceived as invested with 
human passions —as subject to fits of caprice, malignity, and 
folly; for the gods of all the ancient poets and mythologists, 
as they were superior in power, claimed also a marked superi¬ 
ority in profligacy and crime. 

But it was not merely by the poets and mythologists that 
this attribute of the Deity was misconceived and misrepre¬ 
sented ; for the ideas of the most enlightened Pagans were 
equally confused and contradictory. “ God, the universe, and 
man, at once divided and engrossed the whole of their atten¬ 
tion. The question first asked was, what is God ? and to this. 


1 Browne —Art. Attica. Encyc. Brit.—The mixture of good and evil 
in the universe, suggested to many of the ancient philosophers, the existence 
of two antagonist principles ; they were delineated by the mythologists 
under the names of love and hate ; by the Persians, they were called Oro- 
masdes and Arimanius, 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


309 


various and discordant answers were, of course, necessarily given. 
According to Tiiales, he is the most ancient of all things, for 
he is without beginning; he is air, said Anaximenes— he is a 
pure mind, quoth Anaxagoras— he is both air and mind, con¬ 
tended Archelaus. Democritus thought him mind in a 
spherical form; Pythagoras, a monad and the principle of 
good ; Heraclitus, an eternal circular fire; Parmenides, the 
finite and immoveable principle, in a spherical form ; Melissus 
and Zeno, one and every thing, the only eternal and infinite. 
But these answers, being all more or less physical, did not satisfy 
the question ; and necessity, fate, and fortune or accident were 
the principles called to fill it up.” 1 

6. No attribute of the Deity is dwelt upon with more sublim¬ 
ity and pathos, by the ancient philosophers than his omnipre¬ 
sence; but this pathos and sublimity are derived from principles 
that are essentially grovelling and erroneous. They did not 
form a conception of the Deity, as exerting his energy through 
an intermediate mechanism, and delegating a portion of his om¬ 
nipotence to the universe around us; but they considered him 
merely as an “ anima mundi” or soul of the world—as being the 
immediate cause of all phenomena—as being equally distri- 


1 Browne. Art. Attica. Encyc. Brit.—For an account of the opinions of 
the ancients, with respect to the nature of the human soul, see the quotation 
which we extracted from Cicero, page 66—7 of the present work,—“The 
strange notion of Lucretius, that apparitions are subtle films or images 
rising from the surfaces of bodies, appears to have entered, more or less, into 
many of the systems on the same subject taught by the schoolmen in the 
middle ages. A similar view may also be detected in the reveries of the 
sympathetic philosophers, and particularly in the theory of the transmission 
of spirits propounded by Lavater. Amongst the older philosophers who 
appear to have construed the Epicurean doctrine a little too literally, Psel- 
lus, for instance, stoutly contends for the heretical doctrine of the materi¬ 
ality of demons.— Paracelsus, conceiving that the elements were inhabited 
by four kinds of demons—spirits, nymphs, pigmies, and salamanders, con¬ 
tends for the materiality of these nondescript beings, though allowing to 
them caro non-adamica. Cudworth maintains the materiality of angels ; 
and some of his successors contend for the materiality of every thing in 
heaven and earth ; thus completing the cycle of absurdity, and bringing us 
back, at last, to the Epicurean doctrine, from which we set out.” Id. art. 
Apparitions.—Note. 



310 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


butecl throughout all matter, and animating the whole mass. 

The Egyptians admitted an active principle or intelligent 
power; but then they considered it as eternally united with 
the chaotic mass, by whose energy the elements were separated, 
and bodies were formed, and who continually presides over the 
universe, and is the efficient cause of all effects. 1 In the frag¬ 
ments of Orpheus, we find that God contained within himself 
the unformed principles of the material world, and consisted of 
a compound nature, active and passive. By the energy of the 
active principle he sent forth from himself, at the commence¬ 
ment of a certain finite period, all material and spiritual beings 
which partake, in different degrees, of the divine nature. 2 
Though there has been a dispute about the opinion of Thales, 
perhaps the truth is, that though he did not expressly main¬ 
tain an independent mind as the efficient cause of nature, yet 
he admitted the ancient doctrine concerning God as the ani¬ 
mating principle of the world. This supposition perfectly 
agrees with the language ascribed to him concerning the Deity, 
particularly that the world is animated, ep4' y x ov ; 3 and that all 
things are full of God. In the opinion of Plato, the universe 
is animated by a soul which proceeds from God,—a third sub¬ 
ordinate nature, compounded of intelligence and matter; and 
several parts of nature, particularly the heavenly bodies, are 
gods. 4 Pythagoras, Heraclitus, and after these, Zeno, 
taking it for granted that there is no real existence which is not 
corporeal, conceived nature to be one tvhole, consisting of a 
subtle ether and gross matter; the former the active, the latter 
the passive principle, as essentially united as the soul and body 
of man : that is, they supposed God, with respect to nature, to 
be, not a co-existing, but an informing, principle.* * “ The phi¬ 
losophers of Greece (says Gibbon) deduced their morals from 
the nature of man, rather than from that of God. Thev have 
left us some of the most sublime proofs of the existence of the 


i Isis et Osiris. 2 A^svoOuAnv. 3 Laertius, lib. 1. § 27. 4Timseus, i.c. 

* See Enfield’s Brucker, passim.— Virgil’s poetical descriptions of this 
“ anima mundi ” are well known. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


311 


perfections of the first cause ; but as it was impossible for them 
to conceive the creation of matter, the workman in the Stoic- 
philosophy was not sufficiently distinguished from the work; 
whilst, on the contrary, the spiritual God of Plato and his 
disciples resembled more an idea than a substance.” 1 

7. Many of the remarks in the preceding paragraphs will serve 
to shew us in what sense we must understand their language, 
with respect to the omnipotence of the Deity, and to what limi¬ 
tations they considered it as subjected. As to matter being 
created out of nothing, or the universe being created out of mat¬ 
ter, that was not pre-existent—it is an opinion which never 
originated any dispute, for it was one which never entered into 
their conceptions. In this, philosopher and poet equally 
agreed ; and perhaps it is the only opinion in which there was 
perfect harmony. “ There was (says Bayle), among the hea¬ 
then natural philosophers, a great variety of opinions about the 
origin of the world, and the nature of the element or elements 
of which they pretended particular bodies to have been formed. 
Some maintained that water was the principle of all things, 
others gave that pre-eminence to the air, others to the fire, 
others to homogeneous parts, &c.; but they all agreed in this, 
that the matter of the world was unproduced; they never dis¬ 
puted among themselves upon the question, whether any thing 
was ever made out of nothing ? They all agreed that it was 
impossible.” 2 

“ As God is subject to no other being, and as no being can 
be compared to him in any perfection, it follows, that no one 
can resist his supreme and all-controlling power. Hence no¬ 
thing is impossible with God, and he doth whatsoever he will : 
svspywv xara t rjv (3&\v)v ts OEXng.cx,Tog out#, working all tilings aCCOld- 
ing to the counsel of his own will. 3 And the power of God is 
the more unlimited, because in the formation and government 


i Decline and fall of the Roman empire. 2 Dictionary under the 

article Epicurus, Note R.—The apostle Paul, on the contrary, tells us 
sig to g.Y) ex. (pouvofjLEvuv Toe (3\E7Tog>Evo(, yE<yovEvou. Heb. xi. 3.—Consult 
Dr. A. Clarke in loc.— Storr. Vol 1. p. 357. 2 Ephes. i. 11. 





312 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


of the world, he is not a mere artificer, whose wishes could be 
controlled by the nature of the pre-existent matter; but is a 
proper Creator, who, by his fiat, gave existence both to the matter 
and form of the world.” 1 But, however, abstracting our atten¬ 
tion entirely from their ideas of an eternal pre-existent matter, 
as a necessary condition to the existence of the universe, and 
considering the Deity merely as the 

- Op if ex rerum, mundi melioris Origo,” * 

l 

and giving forms of life and beauty and harmony, to what was 
once inert and chaotic ;—yet, even in this view, we do not con¬ 
ceive that their ideas of his power attain the sublimity of the 
scriptural standard. Wherever the Deity has been considered as 
eternally co-existing or eternally connected with matter—as the 
“ soul of the world,” and the immediate cause of all pheno¬ 
mena, there will always be a danger of considering him as a 
blind 'plastic power, exerting his energy indeed, but exerting it 
without the guidance of intelligence, and the freedom of voli¬ 
tion. When we contemplate man, as to his mere physical 
existence, as an insulated being, and independent of any effici¬ 
ent cause, we perceive that he is animated with an unknown 
principle of vitality, which manifests its existence to our per- 
cejitions, through an appropriate set of organs and apparatuses. 
But, though we perceive that he is capable (through the freedom 
of his will, which is the result of his intelligence) of modifying 
all his external actions; yet we also perceive that all the func¬ 
tions, which are termed involuntary, such as those of respira¬ 
tion, circulation, &c. are going on incessantly without our con¬ 
currence ; and in the majority of the species, some of them with¬ 
out even their knowledge. Wherever mankind have been unen¬ 
lightened by revelation, however violent the transition may 
appear, yet their ideas of the nature of God will invariably 
derive their colouring from their ideas of the nature of man. 
We do not wish to he too positive on the subject, but we think 


1 Storr’s Elements of Biblical Theology. Vol. 1. p. 351—2. 
^ Ovid’s Metam. lib 1. 1. 79. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


313 


that we can discern a negation of the freedom of will, as an 
attribute of the Deity, in many of the speculations of the most, 
enlightened Pagans; and that though fate or necessity was in¬ 
troduced more prominently by the stoical philosophers, yet it 
may also be considered as representing, in some measure, those 
indistinct ideas which were floating in the minds of many of the 
rival sects. “Both gods and men are bound (says Seneca) 
by the same chain of necessity. Divine and human affairs 
are alike borne along in an irresistible current; cause depends 
upon cause; effects arise in a long succession; nothing happens 
by accident, but every thing comes to pass in the established 
order of nature.” 1 When Seneca, however, has introduced 
fate or necessity, he has introduced nothing in addition to the 
Deity and the phenomena of the universe; and it is only 
through the realism of language* that it can be personified to 
our imagination, as an abstract existence, and it is only through 
a perversion of this realism, that we can ascribe to it a real 
efficiency. 2 

The opinion, with respect to the Deity being merely the 
pyog, or “ artificer,” and not the creator of the universe, 
not only degraded their conceptions of his omnipotence, but 
also exerted a most baneful influence upon their views, con¬ 
cerning the nature and destiny of man. They never imagined 
that man was originally created, after the image of his Maker, 
in moral purity and “true holiness;” and the abuse of his 
free-will was never introduced into their systems, except by the 
later Platonists after the spread of Christianity,* as a solution 
of all the difficulties with which the question of the origin of 
evil was encumbered. All the physical evils that we suffer— 
all that disorganization of our appetites and faculties; in a 


x Dc Providentia. c. 5. * See page 300 of the present work. * The 

system of Spinoza is merely a revival of the old theory of the “ anima 
mundi .” In one of his letters to Mr. Oldenburg, he says, “Deum rerum 
omnium causam immanentem, non vero transeuntem statuo.” The same 
conclusion follows. “ Res nullo alio modo, neque alio ordine a Deo pro- 
duci potuerunt, quam productse sunt.” Ethic. Pars 1. Prop, 33. 

# See page 123 of the present work. 

2 o 







314 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


word, all that inherent moral depravity which pre-disposes us 
to the commission of any or every species of vice, were con¬ 
sidered as necessarily flowing from the nature of this pre-exist¬ 
ent matter and our connexion with it. According to Plato, 
there exists in matter a ^v^vrog ETrtOvjuua, or an “ innate propen¬ 
sity” to disorder, 1 which resists the will of the Supreme Artifi¬ 
cer, so that he cannot perfectly execute his designs, and that 
this is the cause of that mixture of good and evil which is found 
in the material world. “ It cannot be (says he) that evil should 
be destroyed, for there must always be something contrary to 
good ;” and again, “ God wills, as far as it is possible, every 
thing good and nothing evil.” 2 The same opinion was adopted 
by many of the Stoics. Thus Seneca says, that “ evil things 
happen to good men, because God, the artificer, could not 
change matter; and that a magno Artifice multa formantur 
prava, not because he wanted art, but through the stubborn¬ 
ness of matter.” 3 Others of the Stoics had recourse to fate, 
and say that evil was the necessary consequence of that eternal 
necessity, to which the great whole, comprehending both God 
and matter, is subject. Thus, when Chrysippus was asked, 
whether diseases were to be ascribed to Divine Providence, he 
replied, that it was not the intention of nature that those things 
should happen, nor were they conformable to the will of the 
author of nature and parent of all good things; but that in 
framing the world, some inconveniences had adhered, by ne¬ 
cessary consequence, to this wise and useful plan. 4 

Equally destructive to the omnipotence of the Deity is the 
opinion of an antagonist principle, which controls and modi¬ 
fies all the beneficent designs of the Deity, and vitiates every 
design that it can either control or modify. “ It is a tradition 
(says Plutarch) of great antiquity, derived down from the 
ancient masters of divine knowledge and formers of common¬ 
wealths, to the poets and philosophers, whose first author can¬ 
not be found, and yet hath met with firm and unshaken belief, 


i Phileb. 2 Theaet. t. 1 . p. 176. 3 Re Provid. c. 5. —See Stilling- 

fleet. Vol 2. c. 2. * Aulus Gellius. lib. 6. c. 1.—See Brucker. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


315 


not only in ordinary discourses and reports, but was spread 
into the mysteries and sacrifices both of Greeks and others, 
that the universe did not depend upon chance, and was desti¬ 
tute of mind and reason to govern it; neither was there only 
one reason that sat at the stern or held the reins, whereby 
he did order and govern the world ; but since there is so much 
confusion and mixture of good and evil in the world, * * * and 
since nothing can be without a cause, and good cannot be the 
cause of evil, it necessarily follows, that as there is a peculiar 
nature and principle which is the cause of good, so there must 
be another which is the cause of evil i —x.a* ^oxei t aro too; ttAekttois 
aou aotyurocToiq, and this is the opinion of the most and wisest of 
the heathen.” 1 The source of the tradition is sufficiently 
indicated, and the permanency of the phenomena, which it ac¬ 
counted for, would give it a corresponding impression. By an 
easy perversion, he who was “ a murderer from the beginning,” 
was erected into an independent antigod. 

The existence of a superior order of beings is so explicitly 
taught in the Scriptures, that it cannot be explained away 
by any mere expurgatory criticism. That folly has been talked 
upon this, as well as upon many other subjects, may easily be 
conceded. For instance, we do not wish, with the schoolmen, to 
determine the number of this celestial hierarchy to a fraction; 
no data are afforded for the determination of such a problem; 
they are merely represented as very numerous, as being “ tens 
of thousands.” 2 We do not wish to arrange them, with the 
Gnostics, into the different orders of the seraphim, cherubim, 
thrones, dominions, virtues, principalities, powers, archangels, 
angels, and to determine the point of precedency with a degree 
of scientific precision; though, from the mention of a^ayyEXo?, 3 
the existence of gradations amongst them is highly probable. 
We do not wish to decide, with the schoolmen, whether angels 
' can see visually in the dark, or whether they can move from 
one point of space to another, without passing through the 


i De Iside et Osiride. c. 45. Ed. Oxon. 2 Heb. xii. 22, 23. 

3 2 Thess. iv. 16. Jude 9. 




316 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


intermediate points; it is sufficient for us to know that they are 
superior to man in physical and intellectual energy—that they 
exhibit, in a higher degree* the perfections of their Creator, that 
they are cvyy&oi SwoLpws aura, “his mighty angels.” 1 Their 
mode of existence, we acknowledge, is altogether mysterious; 
though, that it may be entirely different from that of man, is 
highly probable from such occasional declarations as the fol¬ 
lowing :—that they “neither marry nor are given in marriage.” 
In relation to the human race, they manifest themselves merely 
as ccyytXot and XtiTs^yiKcc, “ messengers” and “ minister¬ 

ing spirits,” 2 and this is the only mode in which the Scriptures 
manifest their agency. “ He employs his angels like winds, 
and his ministers like lightning.” 3 The Scriptures exhibit 
God as availing himself of their instrumentality in the provi¬ 
dential guidance of the destinies of men, and particularly of 
those who “ shall inherit salvation.” It is not enough, there¬ 
fore, to say, with the writer in Henke’s Magazine for Religious 
Philosophy , that “ every pretended advantage which is said to 
be derivable from a lively impression of the presence and 
agency of angels, must be detrimental to the far more exalted 
idea of an omnipresent, universal spirit. And if angels were 
beings of whom we could form an idea more easily than we can 
of an infinitely perfect spirit, we should have been made better 
acquainted with their nature, their employment, and more par¬ 
ticularly with their participation or co-operation in the incidents 
of our lives.” 4 Mere a priori reasoning, drawn from the sphere 
of our immediate observation, and built upon our limited con¬ 
ceptions, can only be considered as a trivial species of evidence, 
when weighed against the authority of a Divine revelation. 
The doctrine of the existence of angels is a doctrine that is 
founded upon no indications in nature, and upon no principles 
in reason; it is purely a doctrine of revelation, and, if it be 
accepted at all, it must be accepted upon its authority alone. 
Whether, therefore, upon the supposition that such beings do 


1 2 Thess. i. 7. 2 , Heb. i. 14. 3 Psalm civ. 4. * Vol 1. No. 3. 

p. 477. “ Examination of the doctrine concerning angels.” 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


317 


exist, “ we should have been made better acquainted with their 
nature and their employment,” is a question that is as useless 
as it is absurd. The Deity has revealed the relation in which 
they stand to us, and that ought to be considered as sufficient. 
Any further revelation, from its being conversant with an order 
of beings, whose nature and mode of existence are confessedly 
mysterious, might perhaps have transcended all our powers of 
comprehension. As we are speaking upon this subject, ano¬ 
ther idea suggests itself to our mind. Many philosophers have 
supposed that all the planetary worlds are inhabited ; and, from 
thence, have endeavoured to degrade man in his own imagina¬ 
tion, by representing him as the “ little being that crawls upon 
the earth,” as an object scarcely worthy of the care of his Crea¬ 
tor, and as sinking into nothing, when compared with the ma¬ 
terialism of the universe, and the multitudes by which it is 
occupied. This is a supposition which is sanctioned by every 
analogy; but the inference drawn from the supposition is 
sanctioned by none. The Scriptures contain no such repre¬ 
sentations ;—they tell us that those superior beings with which 
they have made us acquainted, are interested in our welfare, 
and rejoice over our repentance.—They tell us that we shall 
be introduced into their more immediate communion, when we 
are admitted into the presence of him who is the “ Father of the 
spirits of all flesh.” 

The existence of wicked angels or “ devils” is equally a mat¬ 
ter of Divine revelation ; and since it is a doctrine equally be¬ 
yond the province of reason, if it be accepted at all, it must 
be accepted upon the authority of this revelation. The con¬ 
dition in which they now present themselves to our notice, 
was not their original condition; for they are the “ angels 
that kept not their first estate.” 1 The leader of this apostate 
- band is spoken of as a “ liar and the father of lies”—as a 
“ murderer” and “ possessing the power of death” 2 —words 
which contain an evident allusion to the history of the fall re¬ 
corded in Genesis. 3 Consequently, he is represented as hostile 


* Jude v. 6. 


a Heb. ii. 14. 


3 Chap. iii. 



318 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


to the true interests of man, from a real malevolence of dispo¬ 
sition, 1 and, therefore, labouring to promote iniquity among 
men, in order to make them partakers of that misery which he 
himself is doomed to endure. How the devil should have 
access to our minds, so as to influence our thoughts and our 
actions, is sufficiently mysterious—it is a mode of agency that 
we cannot comprehend. But neither, on the other hand, are 
we able to comprehend the mode of the presence even of a 
human soul; we can only infer that presence from its agency, 
and the appearances manifested at a particular place, without 
knowing any thing of the mode of that presence which belongs 
to the unknown substance of a spiritual being. But if it is im¬ 
possible to establish a physical impossibility against this doc¬ 
trine—to attempt to overthrow it by any reasoning drawn from 
our notions, either of free agency or moral responsibility, will 
be equally unavailing. It is not enough to say that “ the allure¬ 
ments to sin and the difficulty of a virtuous life are, of them¬ 
selves, sufficiently powerful, without regarding them, in addition 
to this, as the schemes of an invisible enemy, possessed of the 
most formidable power, deceitfulness, and cunning.” It is not 
enough to say that “ our noblest moral powers will be paralyzed, 
and our cheerful obedience to the obligations of duty be con¬ 
verted into a timorous effort to escape the wiles of Satan, that 
we shall be tempted to cast all the blame of our crimes upon 
Satan, or at any rate, never be able to determine how far our own 
guilt extends, and where that of Satan begins.” 2 It is not 
enough to say this; for the whole analogy of our experience is 
in favour of the doctrine. We are not merely subjected to the 
impulses of our own inherent depravity, but also to the exter¬ 
nal seductions of others; and, nevertheless, we are treated as 
responsible agents. The seductions of the devil may differ 
from the seductions of others in mode and degree, but not in 
kind; and it is enough for us to know that, in both these cases, 
we need only appeal to him “ who knoweth all our infirmities.” 


1 $9ov« ^ta/3oXy Oocvccrog uarnsig rov noa / xov . Book of Solomon, c. ii. 23. 

2 Staudlin’s History of the Ethical System of the Jews. Pt. 1. p. 805. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


319 


These arguments may not demonstrate either the existence or 
agency of superior beings, but they are sufficient to shew that 
no physical or moral impossibility lies against a doctrine which 
is otherwise established.* 

We have dwelt a little longer on the doctrine of the existence 
of an order of superior beings, because the analogy betwixt the 
good and bad angels of the Christian revelation, and betwixt the 
good and bad demons of the ancient Pagans, appears to us to 
be too striking to be considered as the result of chance. The 
transition from the idea of an universal and omnipresent spirit, 
to the idea of subordinate spirits located in different parts of the 
universe, and exerting their agency within a limited sphere, 
does not appear, however, to be attended with any very pecu¬ 
liar difficulties; but these difficulties entirely vanish, if we 
admit this doctrine to have been, in its essential features, a 
doctrine of the primitive revelation, and to have derived its 
modifications from the perverting ingenuity of man. “ It 
was a very ancient opinion (says Plutarch), that there are 
wicked and malignant demons (pauAa Sadova, xcu pao-Kava,), who 
envy good men, and endeavour to disturb and hinder them in 
the pursuit of virtue, lest remaining firm (awmEj unfallen) in 
goodness and uncorrupt, they should, after death, obtain a 
better lot than they themselves enjoy.” 1 The existence of 
good demons was also a part of their creed; and to localize 
them in any particular part of the universe can only be con¬ 
sidered as an indication of that strong tendency to materialism 
which may be detected amongst all nations, uninstructed by reve¬ 
lation. “It must be observed (says Parkhurst), that accord¬ 
ing to the highly probable opinion of that learned Jew, 


* The existence of the devil is explicitly taught by our Saviour in the 
gospels passim. —“St. Paul interweaves the doctrine of evil spirits, with his 
epistle to the Ephesians. Had he not believed this doctrine, this epistle 
would have been the last place in which he would have spoken so impres¬ 
sively concerning the temptations of wicked angels ; as he was, in this very 
epistle, contending against the Essenes, who had manifested a veneration 
for good angels and a terror of wicked ones altogether extreme.” Storr’s 
Opuscula Academica. Vol. 2. p. 477. Note I. 

i Tome 1. p. 958. Ed. Xylandcr. 



320 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


Maimonides, 1 the error of the first idolaters consisted in their 
maintaining, that as the stars and planets were created by God 
to govern the world, so it was his pleasure that they should be 
honoured and worshipped as his ministers, and that, accord¬ 
ingly, men proceeded to adore them, in order to procure the 
good-will of Him who created them; thus making them medi¬ 
ators between God and man; and this (says he) was the founda¬ 
tion of idolatry. ‘ Every demon (says Plato) is a middle being 
between God and mortal men/ If you ask what he means by a 
middle being, he will tell you that God is not approached im¬ 
mediately by man, but all the commerce and intercourse be¬ 
tween gods and men, is performed by the mediation of demons. 
Would you see the particulars ? * Demons are reporters and 

carriers from men to gods, and again from gods to men, of the 
supplications and prayers of the one, and of the injunctions and 
rewards of devotion from the other/ The philosopher Plu¬ 
tarch, who flourished at the beginning, and Apuleius, who 
lived after the middle of the second century, teach the same 
doctrine. And ‘this (says the learned Mede) was the (Ecu¬ 
menical philosophy of the Apostles’ times, and of the times long 
before them. Thales and Pythagoras, all the Academics and 
Stoics, and not many to be excepted, unless the Epicureans, 
taught this doctrine/ * 2 Now, when St. Paul affirms 3 that what 
the Gentiles sacrifice, they sacrifice to demons , we may under¬ 
stand Acupona, to mean, according to the opinion of the gentiles 
of his time, such powers or intelligences considered as media¬ 
tors between the supreme gods and mortal men. ‘ For this 
(says Mr. Mede) was the very tenet of the gentiles, that the 
sovereign and celestial gods were to be worshipped only purd 
mente, with the pure mind, and with hymns and praises; and 
that sacrifices were only for demons/ 4 I will not, however, 
take upon me positively to affirm, that St. Paul had in view 
this latter tenet of heathenism in the above passage. It is 


i De idololatria, at the end of Vossius de origine et progressu Idololatriae. 

2. Works, p. C27. 3 i Cor. x. 20. * See Porphyry de Abstinentia. 

lib. 3. § 58. 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


321 


sufficient to prove this assertion, that the general objects to 
which the gentile sacrifices were offered, were nothing higher 
than some powers of material nature, or some intelligences 
supposed to reside therein; and than this, nothing can be more 
certain, from all accounts sacred and profane.” 1 

8. Divine providence may be considered as the result of all 
the other attributes of the Deity. It is not, of itself, any peculiar 
or distinct attribute, but, if we may be allowed the expression, 
it may be termed the actual application of all the other attri¬ 
butes of the Deity, to the promotion of the physical, intel¬ 
lectual, moral, and spiritual welfare of all rational existences. 
Divine providence, therefore, when taken in its legitimate and 
most enlarged meaning, pre-supposes all the other perfections of 
the Deity. If God is not a spiritual being, he cannot be in¬ 
telligent ; if he is not omnipresen t , he cannot be omniscient; if he 
is not omniscient , he cannot know “ all our wants if he is not 
omnipotent , he cannot supply them ; and if he is not the “ only ” 
God, he may, perhaps, be prevented by others. A belief, 
therefore, in the providence of God, is the foundation of all 
religion ; for it is of very little importance to believe merely in 
his existence, unless we believe in him also as the righteous 
Judge of our actions, and the “ rewarder of all those that dili¬ 
gently seek him.” When we speak of the Divine providence, 
we generally mean by the term a species of supernatural agency, 
which may control or modify all the contingencies of our con¬ 
duct and our history, and which is altogether distinct from that 
agency which is manifested in the creation and preservation of 
the world. 

With respect to the opinions of the ancient philosophers, con¬ 
cerning the providence of the Deity, we do not feel it necessary 
to dwell at any particular length. All those ideas of his na¬ 
ture and attributes, which we have already cited, and which 
formed the principles of their theological creed, may be con- 
sidered as indicating, in perspective, their notions of his provi¬ 
dence, independently of any express declarations; and some- 


i Greek and English Lexicon, sub voce. 



322 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


times it may be necessary to reconcile their express declara¬ 
tions, by giving them a limitation corresponding to the princi¬ 
ples of their system. In the system of Epicurus, we discover 
an absurd attempt to account for all the phenomena of the 
universe, from the properties of atoms or elementary j^articles, 
to the exclusion of a divine and creating agency. Here he in¬ 
troduces a Deity, but as his system does not appear to demand 
one, he is suspected to have introduced him solely for the pur¬ 
pose of avoiding the charge of atheism ; for, when he has intro¬ 
duced him, he has introduced him as a cipher, as a being who, 
with respect to us, is in a state of profound repose, abstracted 
from all cares, creating his own leisure, and keeping the stillness 
of his own thoughts. To xat a^Qa^xov «T£ ccvto e % si , 

yrs aXko ■> “ the blessed and immortal being neither hath 

any employment himself, nor troubles himself with others.” 1 
In vain is it for Epicurus to tell us, that we must exalt and 
refine our minds by the contemplation of his excellent nature ; 2 
for, where there are no motives for obedience, there will be no 
practical influence upon the conduct. To expect to render a 
man virtuous by such doctrines as these, would be as absurd, 
says Stillingfleet, as to expect to “ render a man more wil¬ 
ling to pay his taxes, by telling him that there are jewels in 
the Indies.” 

The doctrine of a Providence was dwelt upon at considerable 
length, by many of the later Stoics, after the introduction of 
Christianity, such as Seneca and Epictetus; but whoever con¬ 
siders the subject properly, will perceive that it is altogether 
incompatible with the fundamental principles of their system. 
What avails it to say that the Deity orders and disposes every 
thing, and then to acknowledge in the same breath, that the 
Deity is himself controlled by an invincible necessity —“ that 
there is a necessary chain of causes and effects arising from the 
action of a power, which is itself a part of the machine which 
it regulates, and which equally, with that machine, is subject to 


1 Diogenes Laertius. 1. 10. 

^ Lucretius, lib. 5. v. 1168, 1232. StobaiSexm. 33. p. 137. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


323 


the immutable law of fate. Providence, in the Stoic creed, is 
only another name for absolute necessity or fate, to which God 
and matter, or the universe, which consists of both, is immuta¬ 
bly subject.” 1 

Aristotle, as we have already seen, held the opinion of the 
eternity of the world, in form, as well as in matter; but, how¬ 
ever erroneous his opinion might be on this subject, it would 
be scarcely possible to make good against him a charge of ab¬ 
solute atheism. He perceived that a real difficulty was involved 
in every attempt at the solution of the problem, how motion 
originated in the world; and, therefore, in order to relieve this 
difficulty, he introduced the Deity as the first spring to the ma¬ 
chine—as the eternal energy and vital principle of the universe. 
But if the hypothesis of the eternity of the world be admitted, 
it is evident that the Deity cannot, either in the order of our 
conceptions, or the very nature of things, be considered as the 
author of that mechanism which he animates and inspires. All 
the marks of design and arrangement, displayed either in the 
physical, intellectual, or moral world, were considered as so 
many manifestations of an intrinsic tendency in nature ,* * to 
realize herself in the most perfect forms. As the world, there¬ 
fore, was conducted upon unalterable principles, the system of 
Aristotle does not admit of a Divine providence, or that in¬ 
terposition of the Deity which subordinates all the phenomena 
of our physical, intellectual, and social nature, to the moral in¬ 
terests of rational beings. 

“ The intimate connexion of theology with metaphysics, in 
the ancient philosophy, was a natural consequence of that sepa¬ 
ration which heathenism established between theology and re¬ 
ligion. In the civilized states of antiquity, religion was pur¬ 
sued only as a matter of policy, and not as a rule of life to the 
individual. Whatever was the established creed of the state, 
it was the recognized duty of the good citizen to support as 
established. Not involving any Question of truth or falsehood 


1 Cicero de Nat. Deor. lib. 1.— Brucker. 

* See page 301 of the present work. 




324 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


in the particular creed adopted, it readily admitted of any ad¬ 
ditions of superstition, not repugnant to the laws and manners 
of the state, but imperiously rejected all questioning of the 
principle itself, that the established religion must be practically 
adopted.* It may be said to have been the great principle of 
their religion, that it should be no question of truth or falsehood. 
The religious feelings of the human heart were thus unnerved. 
Their strength was spent in showy pomps or cumbrous cere¬ 
monies, if they were not corrupted by demoralizing orgies. In 
this state of things, the better and wiser part of men were 
driven into a metaphysical religion. They could not acquiesce 
in the views of the Deity conveyed in the popular superstitions ; 
and the subject could not but recur to them in the reasonings 
of their hearts, as soliciting earnest inquiry. They searched 
for God accordingly, not seeking what to do, but what to know. 
Whatever the truth concerning him might be, it was not to be 
expressed in any acts of adoration. Though the whole world 
might be found his temple, he was not to be the Holiness of 
their shrines.—Though the heavens were telling of his glory, 
and the stars were singing together for joy at his presence, yet 
no praise was to ascend to him in the perfumes of their altars, 
or the melodies of their choral hymns. Thus, devotion being 
banished from the heart, reared a tabernacle for itself in the 
wilderness of a theological philosophy; and Socrates and 
Plato and Aristotle and Cicero and other illuminated 
sages of heathenism continued, without hypocrisy, professors of 
the established religion, whilst they sought a purer knowledge 
of God in the thoughtful abstractions of their own intellect.” * 1 


-St 


* See page 110—11 of the present work, 

i Hampden, on Aristotle’s Philosophy.— (Theoretic.) 





L 1TERARY PANCRATIUM. 


325 


DISSERTATION IX. 


ON REVELATION. 


1. The IMPORTANCE of the question indicates the temper of mind 
in which ice ought to approach its discussion. 2. Jls experi¬ 
ence is the only basis of our physical knowledge, miracles, 
like other matters of fact, must be judged according to the 
same principle. 3. The use of miracles. 4. The necessity 
of a Revelation. 5. On the mysteries of Revelation. 6. On 
the authority of Revelation. 

I. "If you reject the principle of utility, what are the motives 
which you would present to men, in order to determine them to 
follow you P Will they be independent of their interest P If 
they do not agree with you, how will you reason with them ? 
How will you endeavour to reconcile them ? Whither will you 
cite all the sects, all the opinions, and all the contradictions which 
fill the world, if not to the tribunal of a common interest.” 1 
The question of a Divine Revelation, whether it exists or not, 
and where it exists, is certainly one of the most important ques¬ 
tions upon which man can enter. If we suppose that a super¬ 
natural Agency has been manifested in our behalf, altogether 
distinct from the ordinary operations of nature and providence, 
and if we suppose that this supernatural agency has been em¬ 
ployed for the purpose of conveying or establishing truths which 
either supersede or transcend the ordinary deductions of reason; 
then it is evident, at the first glance, that these suppositions, pre¬ 
vious to any inquiry, either into their truth or falsehood, impose 
upon us something equivalent to an obligation. Any inquiry, 
however, is, in many cases, a piece of trouble which no man will 


i Bentham—CE uvres par Dumont. Vol. 1. p. 18. Ed. Bruxelles. 



326 


LITE 11 ARY PANCRATIUM. 


undertake without a stimulus; and obedience, in many cases, 
is a task which no man will perform without a motive. The im¬ 
portance of the question, in the present instance, will administer 
the stimulus; and its determination will, in all probability, sup¬ 
ply us with the motive. On the one hand, the benevolence of 
the Divine Being, whose “ mercy is over all his works,” is a suf¬ 
ficient guarantee, that if a revelation has been made, it will have 
been made for our benefit; and the instinctive consciousness 
which every man feels of his own wants and necessities, is a pre¬ 
sumption that this revelation will adapt itself to them. Whe¬ 
ther a revelation has been vouchsafed or not, there is no rational 
man who will not consider it his duty to inquire; and if he finds 
that a revelation has been made, there is no rational man who 
will not equally consider it his duty to obey. In many ques¬ 
tions, to appeal to our abstract curiosity, is often a sufficient 
stimulus to rouse us to their investigation; but, in the present 
question, we occupy a higher ground, for its determination ap¬ 
peals to our abstract curiosity, combined with our dearest and 
most enduring interests. 

If our best and dearest interests are therefore deeply in¬ 
volved in the determination of this question, this, of itself, in¬ 
dicates the temper of mind in which we ought to approach its 
investigation, and the reverential feeling with which we ought 
to conduct it. As the Revelation which we are about to examine, 
proposes to account for all the phenomena of the nature and 
condition of man, and to adapt itself to all the diversified phases 
of his intellectual and moral existence, it is evident, at the first 
glance, that its examination, in order to be conducted satisfac¬ 
torily, can only be conducted upon those enlarged views of his 
constitution, which give to reasoning all its validity, and to ac¬ 
tion, all its energy. AYhatever, therefore, may be our private 
and personal feelings upon the subject, we should endeavour to 
suspend their influence; 1 for these private and personal feelings 

i “ The principle of sympathy and antipathy consists in blaming or approv¬ 
ing by sentimeut, without admitting any other reason of the judgment, than 
the judgment itself. I love , I hate !—behold the pivot upon which this prin¬ 
ciple turns. An action is considered good or bad, not because it is conform- 







LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


327 


may perhaps have been warped by casual associations which are 
not at all essential to the question, and by prejudices which are 
altogether independent of its merits. Neither, on the other hand, 
is the question to be set at rest by a metaphysical quibble, or an 
epigrammatic caricature; for no man, in the affairs of ordinary 
life, would consider them as sufficient data , either for the decision 
of his opinions or the decision of his conduct. The technicalities 
of logic may all be well enough; but this is a question which 
cannot be settled either in Barbara or Baralipton, and as its force 
cannot be deadened by ridicule, neither can its merits be obscur¬ 
ed by a sophism. 

2. Such an interposition of the Deity as may suspend, control, 
modify, or reverse the ordinary operations of nature, cannot, in 
any degree, be denied by those who believe in his existence and 
superintending providence. All the powers and susceptibilities 
with which matter has been invested, can only be considered as 
a delegated portion of his all-sustaining fulness. All those 
combinations and intermediate mechanism through which these 
powers and susceptibilities realize their efficiency, are so many 
manifestations of his wisdom; and the permanency of those laws, 
through which this efficiency is realized, indicates the changeless¬ 
ness of the Divine Being, and inspires us with such a confidence 
in the course of external nature, as serves us for the basis of all 
science, and the fundamental principle of all action. 

We have already pointed out the danger which we incur of 
converting the material agents which are ever operating before 
us, into the real and only efficient, and imagining that there 
must be some adaptation betwixt physical causes and effects. 


able or contrary to the interest of those who perform it, but because it pleases 
or displeases him who judges it. He pronounces in a sovereign manner; he 
admits of no appeal; he does not believe himself obliged to justify his senti¬ 
ment by any consideration relative to the good of society. ‘It is my inward 
persuasion; it is rny intimate conviction; I feel; sentiment consults nobody. 
woe be to him who thinks otherwise! He is not a man, he is a monster in a 
human shape.’ -Such is the despotic tone of its sentences. The principle of 
sympathy and. antipathy is not a principle of reasoning ; it is rather the nega¬ 
tion or annihilation of every principle.”— Bentham. Principes de Legisla¬ 
tion. (Euvres. Vol. 1. cap. 3. § 1. 




328 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


independent of the Divine volition. From this false idea we 
may easily step into another illusion, and imagine that a sus¬ 
pension or reversing of the laws of nature would require a higher 
degree of power than what was exerted in their establishment. 
But it requires no such thing—it requires only the interposition 
of the Deity;—it is his prerogative to repeal the laws of nature, for 
he alone has established them. 1 He can destroy as easily as he 
can create; he can suspend the course of nature with the same 
ease as he established it; for his will to perform is immediately 
followed by tb e,performance —there is no other connecting link 
betwixt him and his actions; and this constitutes his omnipotence. 

The philosopher, who speculates upon the course of nature, 
has nothing but experiment to guide him in his researches. 
The value of his inductions will always be in proportion to the 
accuracy of his experiments; and, whatever conclusions he 
may wish to establish, without appealing to experiment, as the 
criterion of their truth, he has no right to promulge them as 
the oracles of nature. The difference betwixt the experience of 
the vulgar and the experimenting of the philosopher is, that 
the one is the result of those universal impressions which flow 
in upon us from the mere contemplation of physical objects, and 
the other is a more powerful and refined process, employed for 
the purpose of supplementing the efforts of ordinary and un¬ 
assisted observation. But though they may differ in mode and 
degree, yet both of them have the same object in view 7 , to make 
us acquainted with the course of nature. We contemplate the 
universe around us.—We perceive one phenomenon following 
another:—this is mere succession ; w r e perceive certain antece¬ 
dents in the same circumstances, and under the same condi¬ 
tions, always followed by the same consequents:—this is 


i “ A miracle is an effect or event contrary to the established constitution 
or course of things, or a sensible suspension or controlment of, or deviation 
from, the known laws of nature, wrought either by the immediate act, or by 
the concurrence, or by the permission of God, for the proof or evidence of 
some particular doctrine, or in attestation of the authority of some particular 
person.” This definition explains the nature of the phenomenon, and gives 
the reason of its occurrence.— Watson’s Theol. Inst. Vol. I. p. 75. 





LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


329 


causation, and the antecedents and consequents which stand in 
this relation are termed causes and effects. This invariable 
sequence and antecedence we frequently express by the term 
law of nature; and our idea of the laws of nature, and the per¬ 
manency of the laws of nature, is based upon experience. 1 

But if experience convinces us of the permanency of the 
laws of nature, to what higher authority shall we appeal, when 
any of her laws is either suspended or reversed ? An event oc¬ 
curs contrary to the established order and constitution of things; 
and how shall we dispose of it P To say that no such event 
ever occurred, and that all who propagate the report, are either 
deceived themselves or wish to deceive others, would indeed be 
summary and explicit. But in addition to this, our opponents 
surfeit us with all manner of a priori speculations. They tell 
us that the course of nature is unalterable, and, therefore, a 
miracle cannot be true. The abstract possibility of a miracle 
cannot, however, be denied by any one who believes that there 
exists a power superior to the powers of nature. They tell us 
that miracles are contrary to experience, and, therefore, no evi¬ 
dence can render them credible. To tell us that miracles are 
contrary to general experience, is to tell us nothing but what is 
involved in the term itself; but to say that miracles are contrary 
to all experience, is to make a petitio principii, and assume the 
point in dispute. Equally foolish is it to talk of weighing our 
experience of the permanency of the laws of nature, against 
the experience of those who have witnessed their violation. 


i “ The chemist, in his laboratory, as he questions nature, may almost be 
said to put her to the torture. When tried in his hottest furnace, or probed 
by his searching 1 analysis, to her innermost arcana, she, by a spark, or an ex¬ 
plosion, or an effervescence, or an evolving substance, makes her distinct 
replies to his interrogations. And he repeats her answer to his fellows in 
philosophy ; and they meet in Academic state and judgment to reiterate the 
question, and in every quarter of the globe, her answer is the same:—so 
that, let the experiment,though a thousand times repeated, only be alike in all 
its circumstances, the result which cometh forth, is as rigidly alike, without 
deficiency and without deviation.”—“They are the replies of a God who 
never changes, and who hath adapted the whole materialism of creation to 
the constitution of every mind he hath sent forth upon it.”— Chalmer’s 
Sermons, p. 30. 

*2 Q 



330 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


Philosophically speaking, we can only consider our own ex¬ 
perience as vouching for what has occurred within its limits; 
and shall we not allow the same privilege to the experience of 
others ? As to the possibility or impossibility of miracles, it 
must be decided, like many other questions, by an appeal to 
matter of fact; and thus we shall render experience, instead of 
probability, the supreme arbiter of our conclusions. 

3. The use of miracles is clear and apparent. He who has es¬ 
tablished the laws of nature, is the only being that can alter, 
suspend, or reverse them ; and their alteration, suspension, or 
reversion is an evidence of his interposition, as distinct as it 
is explicit. If inferior beings perform miracles, in the proper 
sense of the word, they can only be performed through his per¬ 
mission ; and, therefore, they may be considered as a sufficient 
attestation of the Divine authority of him who has been com¬ 
missioned to perform them. In this manner miracles are the 
sensible manifestations of the agency of an invisible being; 
and from him who performs them we require no other evidence 
to convince us that he has authority to declare his will. Doc¬ 
trines, which are placed beyond the limits of reason, or beyond 
the domain of ordinary experience, are thus brought within 
the apprehension of the understanding; for miracles put us 
in possession of a proof of their truth, which is altogether in¬ 
dependent of their internal evidence, and which is equal, if not 
superior, to all demonstration. The rationale of these doctrines 
may be revealed or not be revealed ; but whether it is revealed 
or not revealed, it does not constitute the ground upon which 
we accept the doctrines themselves. All revelation, therefore, 
is essentially miraculous. Those manifestations of power which 
recommend it to our notice, transcend the ordinary opera¬ 
tions of nature ; and the supernatural truths, which constitute 
this revelation, transcend the ordinary deductions of reason. 

As inspiration is a mode of instruction that supersedes the 
ordinary operations of the reasoning faculties ; so it must be 
classed under the common term “miracle.” But there is no 
real difference betwixt inspiration and a miracle ; and the only 
apparent difference is, that the one is the external manifestation 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


331 


of a superior power, and the other the internal manifestation of 
a divine communication. But if an individual professes him¬ 
self to be inspired, in what manner shall we satisfy ourselves on 
this subject ? He may talk in a lofty and transcendental style 
on the nature and the eternal destiny of man, and the doings 
of an invisible world; he may vaunt forth his oracles as the 
oracles of inspiration, but some may consider them as the 
acquisitions of a mind superior in grasp to their own, and others 
may look upon them as the vagaries of an honest enthusiasm, 
or the paraphernalia of a cold-blooded imposture. lie may, 
nevertheless, be convinced of the rectitude of his opinions, but 
he has no right to command our assent. Here, then, is the 
necessity and advantage of miracles. They arm him with a 
power distinct from the rational evidence of the doctrines them¬ 
selves, and compel us to submit to the “ obedience of faith.” 
Miracles are, therefore, the medium through which inspiration 
realizes its efficiency—through which it takes hold of the con¬ 
sciences of men, and through which its doctrines and precepts 
are converted into the principles of our belief, into rules for our 
conduct, and motives for action. 1 

4. But is a revelation necessary ? And are there any truths 
placed beyond the limits of reason and the domain of ordinary 
experience, which it is important for man to know P Of the 
necessity of a revelation, previous to its being vouchsafed, we 
confess that we should have been but very incompetent judges. 
We might have felt bewildered in our understandings and in¬ 
capacitated in our moral energies; but of the extent of this be¬ 
wilderment and incapacity, we should have entertained but 
obscure notions. Ignorant of the nature of the disease, we 
should have been equally ignorant of the nature of the remedy 
and the mode of its application. But ignorance, far from act- 


i“The various notions of supernatural revelation in Scripture (says 
Wegscheider) must be referred to the mystic narrationsAnd notions of all 
barbarous people.”—Institutions, p. 145. Notions of inspiration as well 
as of the existence of a superior Being-, may be found among-st barbarous na¬ 
tions, but this is a consideration which affects the truth neither of the one 
nor the other. 




33*2 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


ing as a check, may, in many cases, be considered as a premium 
upon speculation. Where there exists the greatest deficiency 
of satisfactory data, upon which to build our conclusions, the 
temptation to theorize is generally the most irresistible. We 
exalt our own feelings into the principles* of our approbation 
or disapprobation, and our own notions into universal maxims; 
and we determine every question by the relation and analogy 
which it bears to these antecedent feelings and notions.* 

Following out this mode of a priori reasoning to its ultimate, 
if not to its legitimate, conclusion, the deist has decided that no 
revelation is necessary. Give him the light of nature and the 
light of reason, and he will require nothing more :—where this 
terminates, all speculation is useless. Possessing within him¬ 
self a sure director, which is independent of the influence of 
all external circumstances, why should he seek for any other P 
Why should he seek to lose himself in the region of Christian 
faith, and the terra incognita of mysterious doctrines P 

There is, however, a specious plausibility upon the face of 
deism, which has no small charms for weak and unreflecting 
minds. Nature within and nature around him, are the only 
sources of truth which the deist acknowledges. These are 
sources, too, that are permanent and universal. It is the same 
% nature which encircles and pervades man in all countries, and 
which speaks to all in the same language. All the doctrines 
which it teaches are easy of comprehension ; and all the pre¬ 
cepts which it delivers are immutable, because they are founded 
upon truth, and carry along with them their own evidence. So 
many changes are rung upon the laws of nature, the laws of 
reason, and the principles of the universal creed, that the reader 
is almost tempted to fancy himself enlightened; and he never 
finds out his mistake until he submits these terms to the test 
of a rigorous analysis. Strip deism of its pompous phrases 
and you strip it of half its power. “ It is an exhausting pro¬ 
cess which reduces it to its lowest term.” * 1 


* See Appendix. Note 12. 

1 The following remarks on the dogmatists in legislation are equally ap- 






LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


333 


lo the conclusions of cleism, the whole tendency of the argu¬ 
ments, which we have hitherto developed, is decidedly opposed. 
\\ e have seen that the light of reason and nature was not suffici¬ 
ent to guide man in his investigations, not merely upon debata¬ 
ble points, but with respect to those doctrines which may be 
considered as fundamental to all religion.* * We have seen that 
no portion of mankind ever existed in such a condition, as phi¬ 
losophers represent to be a state of nature; and, therefore, to draw 
conclusions from such an imaginary condition, is to argue upon 
an hypothesis which no man can prove. Most of the preceding 
dissertations bear more or less directly upon this subject; but 
we have dwelt more particularly'upon it in the dissertations on 
the Origin of Language, and the Existence of the Deity. We 
have shewn the difficulties which would attend the development 
of the idea of a Deity; yet we find no nation that was ever des¬ 
titute of this idea. The higher we carry up our researches, the 
greater degree of vividness we perceive in the religious feeling to 
which it has given birth; and, even when it has degenerated into 
superstition, superstition has merely served to display it in an in¬ 
tenser form . 1 We have also shewn the difficulties which would 


plicable, mutatis mutandis , to the dogmatists in infidelity. “As to the dog¬ 
matists, they form numerous sects, and consequently they have numerous 
enemies ; but they are, in politics, a species of inspired persons, who believe, 
who command to believe, and who never reason. They have professions of 
faith and magical terms ; such as equality, liberty, passive obedience, right 
divine, rights of man, political justice, natural law, and social contract. 
They have unlimited maxims and universal methods of government, which 
they apply, without regard, to the past or the present, because, from the 
height of their genius, they consider the species and not individuals, and 
that the happiness of a generation ought not to be put into the balance 
against a sublime system. Their impatience of acting is in proportion to 
their incapacity for doubting, and their intrepid vanity disposes them to 
throw as much violence into their measures, as there is despotism in their 
opinions.” CEuvres deBENTHAM.—Preliminaire Discours par Dumont, p. 7. 

* See Appendix, Note 13. 

i Denon, when speaking of Thebes in Egypt, says, “ stilltemples—nothing 
but temples—not a vestige of the hundred gates, so celebrated in history; no 
walls, quays, bridges, baths, or theatres; not a single edifice of public utility 
or convenience. Notwithstanding all the pains I took in the research I 
found nothing but temples, walls covered with obscure emblems, and hiero¬ 
glyphics which attested the ascendancy of the priesthood, who still seemed 




334 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


attend the gradual and unassisted formation of language; yet 
we find language everywhere existing; and that, too, not appa¬ 
rently in an incipient stage, but sufficiently full and expressive 
to serve as a vehicle for all the wants and conceptions which 
characterize any particular state of civilization. 

The arguments, which we have brought forward, if they do 
not carry along with them the force of demonstration, yet, at 
least, establish a high degree of probability, that an original re¬ 
velation has been the basis of all these doctrines.* * "W hen we 
say that a doctrine is rational, we merely mean that there are 
foundations for it both in nature and reason; but the rationality 
of a doctrine cannot be carried so high, as to amount to a proof 
that its evidence is derived from no other source than that of 
nature, and that it has been discovered by no other instrument 
than that of reason. All science is rational, for all science is 
founded uj:>on those permanent relations which exist amongst 
the phenomena of the universe. Yet the discovery of those 
relations has not been coeval with the relations themselves; 
otherwise there could have been no improvement, and the world 
would have been carried at once, to such a degree of perfection, 
as it would have been impossible ever to have surpassed it . 1 


to reign over the mighty ruins, and whose empire constantly haunted my 
imagination.”—Voyage dans la Basse et la haute Egypte. p. 176. 

* See Appendix. Note 14. 

i “All science is necessarily the work of time. We commence with vague 
conjectures. We observe detached facts. We thus make a depot of erudition, 
in which the true and the false are mingled together. When the course of 
events has furnished observation with a great number of facts, we perceive 
analogies, and endeavour to reduce them into systems. It is the reign of 
imagination and intellect which precedes that of reason and of science. 
Descartes made ingenious romances upon general physics, before Newton 
submitted them to certain principles. 

“ Leibnitz and Malebranche had elevated their aerial castles in metaphy¬ 
sics, before Locke had been able to determine the first facts which have fur¬ 
nished a solid basis for that science. Plato and Aristotle preceded Bodin 
Grotius, Harrington, Hobbes, and Puffendorf. All these gradations 
were necessary to arrive at the spirit of laws, and the spivit of laws itself is 
but an intermediate step to the point where legislation shall have become 
a complete and simple system.” CEuvres de Bentham. —Preliminaire Dis¬ 
cours, par Dumont, p. 4,5. 




LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


335 


5. It has been said a revelation should contain no mysteries; 
lor, to say that a revelation is mysterious, is to say something 
which is a contradiction in terms. In this objection, however, 
there is an apparent confusion of language, backed by a real 
confusion of sentiment. Mysteries exist independently of reve¬ 
lation ; for revelation is not the cause of mysteries, though it 
may be the cause of our knowledge of them. If mysteries do ex¬ 
ist, a revelation of their existence is not a revelation of their 
rationale. 1 - The philosopher who tells us that the soul exerts an 
influence over the body, gives us the revelation of a fact; but 
if he leveals the fact, he does not reveal to us the modus operandi. 
The theologian, who tells us, that three persons exist in the 
Godhead, reveals to us a fact, but he does not reveal to us the 
mode of their existence. There is no difference of the two cases 
in this respect; and the only respect, in which they do differ, is, 
that the evidence of the one is derived from experience, and the 
evidence of the other is derived from revelation. 

If we were to lay it down as one of the fundamental axioms 
of our creed, that we are to believe no proposition betwixt the 
terms of which we cannot perceive any rational connexion, we 
should be doing as little service to philosophy as to theology. 
The nature of things would no longer be considered as the ulti¬ 
mate standard and criterion of the properties which we ascribe 
to them. The limits of human comprehension would become 
the boundaries of our knowledge; and the existence and nature 
of facts would be either denied or modified according to our an¬ 
tecedent principles. There would be as little foundation for 
unity of opinion as for knowledge; for what might appear rati¬ 
onal to one man, might not appear rational to another. 2 Yet 


1 “ Human reason is inclined to unite all the religions of the earth by ge¬ 
neralization ; but it is exactly by this abstraction that the essence of Christi¬ 
anity is lost as a peculiar revelation; the essence of the evangelical church dis¬ 
appears with its positive and well-grounded dogmas; the organic unity of faith 
and essential doctrines without which nochurch can exist,is gone; and we see 
when it is too late, that not our foundation, but that which has been laid for 
us by God, is the only true and tenable one.” Ammon.—Ammon was for¬ 
merly a violent rationalist. 

2 “Although it may be a desirable thing to have other arguments, derived 



336 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


the absolute truth of the propositions would not be affected by 
these opinions. There would still be the same evidence in favour 
of their truth, though it might be misapprehended by the one, 
or undervalued by the other. 

A doctrine may, therefore, be rational, though the rationale 
may be either unknown or incomprehensible to us. There may 
be no analogy betwixt the doctrine that we are investigating and 
any other object within the sphere of our observation. If there 
be no analogy, there can be no ground of comparison; and if 
we can compare it with nothing which we know, there is nothing 
within our knowledge which can furnish us with any evidence 
of its truth. It will, nevertheless, have its rationale, though that 
rationale may attach itself to an order higher than that of nature. 
Its rationale may not be discoverable by us, but it may be dis¬ 
coverable by beings endowed with superior faculties. It is 
therefore an abuse of the term, to say, that any of the Christian 
doctrines are not rational; for we can never prove it, unless we 
can prove that human reason is the measure of reason itself, 1 
and external nature the standard of all other existences. 


from reason and experience, in support of the doctrines of the Bible; still it 
is by no means necessary that every doctrine should be confirmed by the dic¬ 
tates of reason, or by arguments derived from the nature of things. For 
should we receive any doctrine, merely upon the authority of Scripture, 
without any other proof, we should still be acting rationally; we should be 
doing precisely what all men do when they believe any thing on the testimony 
of credible witnesses, without having any other evidence of its truth. Nor 
do we by this course discard the use of our reason ; for our reason is exercised 
in the investigation of the genuineness, the import, and the authority of the 
testimony of the sacred writers. Reason is also employed in the comparison 
and combination of the doctrines learned from the Scriptures, with one ano¬ 
ther and with other doctrines.” Storr’s Elements of Biblical Theology. 
Vol. 1. p. 274. 

*“Itis an error of those who contend that all necessary truth is dis¬ 
coverable or demonstrable by reason, that they affirm, of human reason 
in particular , what is true only of reason in general, or of reason in the 
abstract. To say that whatever is true, mirst be either discoverable or de¬ 
monstrable by reason, can only be affirmed of an all-perfect reason, and is 
therefore predicated of none but the Divine intellect. So that unless it can 
be shewn that human reason is the same in degree, as well as in kind, with 
Divine reason ; i. e. commensurate with it as to its powers, and equally in¬ 
capable of error ; the inference from reason in the abstract to human reason, 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


337 


\\ e may also make another observation. The mysteries of 
are not proposed to ns merely for the sake of being 
mysteries, or as objects of abstract curiosity. There is no mys¬ 
tery which has not a corresponding moral attached to it; for 
all of them bear a relation to our conduct, and are enunciated 
as the basis of practical principles. If there be not three per¬ 
sons in the Godhead, then there is no Son of God, who has 
“ died for our sins/’ and no Holy Ghost, who will “ assist our in¬ 
firmities.” If there has been no sacrifice for sin, then the whole 
responsibility will devolve unconditionally upon man; and if 
there be no supernatural assistance, our emancipation from vice 
is evidently committed to our own energies. In vain is it, 
therefore, to represent the mysteries of Christianity as a portion 
which may be dispensed with, or as prejudicial to our moral 
interests. They are the characteristics which distinguish the 
Christian religion from all other religions—they are the sinews of 
its strength, and our sheet-anchor in every difficulty. By expur¬ 
gating Christianity of its mysteries, we may reduce it to a re¬ 
ligion of reason, and strip it of all its efficiency as a distinct 
revelation. It is evident, therefore, that our belief in the mys¬ 
terious doctrines of Christianity does not depend upon the in¬ 
ternal credibility of the doctrines, but upon the authority of 
inspiration which attaches itself to them. It has been observed 
that the human mind submits more willingly to an unlimited, 
than to a partial, faith ; and yields itself up without reserve, 
rather than cavil about restrictions, even in favour of its own 
independence. This applies with peculiar emphasis to Chris¬ 
tianity. When the theological student in his investigations, 
finds himself, at one time, disposed to accord the ascendancy 
to reason, and, at another time, to give the pre-eminence to 


is manifestly inconclusive. Nothing-more is necessary to shew the fallacy 
of this mode of arguing, than to urge the indisputable truth, that God is 
wiser than man, and has endued man with only a portion of that faculty 
which he himself, and none other besides him, possesses in absolute per¬ 
fection.”— Van Mij/dert’s Sermons at Boyle’s Lecture. The creed of the 
deist is altogether as mysterious as that of the Christian.—He believes in the 
existence of an eternal, omnipotent, and omniscient Being; yet these are 
attributes which no man can comprehend. 

2 R 





338 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


revelation, he may rest assured that his views of the Scriptures, 
as a Divine revelation, are becoming fluctuating and unsteady. 
He is gradually giving up the only principle which can com¬ 
mand his assent to doctrines that are equally beyond the sphere 
of observation and reason. His attachment to particular doc- 
trines may remain after he has given up the only principle 
which can render that attachment either rational or consistent; 
but when he has given up the only rationale that can justify 
his attachment, he has no security that his attachment will be 
permanent. 1 

6. The career of rationalism, which we have sketched in a pre¬ 
ceding dissertation, is a sufficient illustration of the assertions 
which we have made. Rationalism, previous to commencing 
its operations, laid it down as its first and fundamental axiom, 
that reason was the measure and arbiter of all things, that every 
thing was to be referred to its decision, and that from its de¬ 
cision there was no appeal. All the other conclusions, or 
rather negations of the rationalists, may be considered as in¬ 
volved in this general theorem ; for the whole history of ra¬ 
tionalism is nothing but a history of its application. 2 The 


1 Reinhard makes the following remarks, when speaking of the rational¬ 
ists :—“ In fact, the greatest number of innovating theologians did not know 
what they wished, and did not understand to what their efforts led. They 
thought they had done a great service to truth in rejecting first one and 
then another doctrine of the old system, while they retained others, which, 
on the same ground, they ought to have rejected. Thus was introduced 
into dogmatic theology a vacillation which deprived it of all character of a 
system. The greater part of these people did not know where they were ; 
detached from the old system where Scripture decided every thing, but not 
having yet gained resolution to withdraw themselves wholly from its au¬ 
thority, and to recognize only that of reason. These theologians established 

a sort of absurd compromise between the two.”-“The only consistent 

opinions are pure Deism and a full belief in Christianity as a Divine revela¬ 
tion ; and a mixture which allows a sort of joint and equal reign of reason 
and the Word of God, can only lead to confusion, and to a want of clear 
views and fixed principles.” Lettres sur ses etudes et sa carriere de Pre- 
dicateur, Paris, 1816. 

2 “ Inspiration was given up ; interpolations in Scripture were believed 
to exist. In the oldest, and partly in more recent history, instead of his. 
torical facts, these writers saw only allegories, mythi, philosophical princi¬ 
ples, and national history. Where appearances of God and the angels, or 



LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


339 


rationalist could see no necessity for any immediate interposi¬ 
tion of the Deity, distinct from the ordinary agency of his 
providence; and the non-existence of any such necessity, in 
his view of the case, was considered as tantamount to a de¬ 
monstration against all the other evidence of the fact itself. 
But if there has been no immediate interposition of the Deity, 
then no miracles have been performed, no prophecies have been 
uttered, and no man has hitherto acted or spoken under the 
authority either of supernatural assistance or instruction. All 
the doctrines of Christianity which pretended to this character, 
were either to be expurgated or modified ; and the theologians 
who undertook this expurgation or modification, conducted 
it in accordance with their antecedent feelings, habits, and 
opinions. 

“Those who infer the divinity of the doctrines of Jesus, 
solely from their accordance with the dictates of reason, and 
regard them as of Divine origin, in no other sense than that in 
which all truth is from God, not only make a false appeal to the 
declarations of Jesus, who asserted the divinity of his doctrine 
in quite a different sense (John vii. 17) ; but they also entirely 
change the point in question. For when, in the discussions of 
doctrinal theology, we examine the Divine origin and authority 
of the doctrines of Christ, we are not inquiring concerning the 
truth of the particular doctrines which can be comprehended 
and proved by human reason; but we are inquiring concerning 
a special aid and influence of God , which it is contended that 
Jesus possessed above all other teachers; an influence of such 
a nature as to form a distinct ground of credibility, independent 


their immediate agency, are related, nothing was seen but Jewish images or 
dreams. Every thing miraculous was explained from natural causes, even 
the miracles of Jesus. Instead of prophecies fulfilled, all, which established 
any connexion between the Old and New Testament, was said to be mere 
accommodation. The Old was degraded in comparison with the New, and 
all the doctrines of the New were not regarded of equal value. The explana¬ 
tion of all biblical books was pursued on new principles. The Song of 
Solomon was not mystical. The Revelations contained no prophecy of the 
fortunes of the church.” See Appendix. Note 15.— Schrock, Kirchen 

—geschichte seit Reformation. Vol. 7. p. 630. 



840 


LITERARY PANCRATIUM. 


of the visible truth of the doctrines themselves. The question 
is not, shall we believe the doctrines of Jesus, under the same 
conditions that we believe the declarations of any other teacher, 
namely, provided our reason discovers them to be true; but, 
the question is, shall we believe the instructions of Jesus, under 
circumstances in which we would not credit any other teacher, 
who was not under the special influence of God P that is, when 
we cannot be convinced of the truth of the doctrines from visible 
marks of truth upon them, independently of the authority of 
the teacher. 1 It is useless to speak of a revelation , if we at¬ 
tribute to Jesus no other inspiration than what the naturalist 
will concede to him, and which may just as well be attributed to 
the Koran, and to every other pretended revelation; nay to all 
teachers of religion; that is, if we receive only those doctrines 
whose truth is manifest to the eye of reason, and call them 
divine, only because all truth is derived from God, the author 
of our reason. It is not a mere mediate revelation, but an imme¬ 
diate and supernatural one, which is here the subject of inquiry; 
and the existence of such a revelation must be either asserted 
or unconditionally denied. For, to retain the name of revela¬ 
tion, and yet to believe only in such a mediate revelation as the 
naturalist will admit, is nothing else than a covert denial of all 
real revelation. The question is not, whether the doctrines of 
Christianity can be comprehended and jwoved by reason; but 
whether the origin of Christianity is divine, in such a sense, 
that the truth of the Christian doctrines can be inferred from 
the divinity of their origin, no matter whether they can be 
comprehended by reason or not. 2 For the doctrines of Christi¬ 
anity might be true, and yet not a divine revelation; and, on 
the other hand, they may be divinely revealed, and yet reason 
not be able to perceive their truth from their intrinsic nature.” 3 


1 See observations on Kant’s Philosophy. Note 339. 

2 Kant’s Religion innerhalb den Grantzen der blossen Vernunft. S. 217. 

3 See Plank’s Introduction to the Theological Sciences. Pt. 1. p. 241, 87, 
93, 468. Suskind on the question, In what sense did Jesus profess that his 

religious and moral precepts are divine? Tubingen , 1812. § 1 — 6._ Stork’s 

Elements of Biblical Theology. Vol. 1. p. 279—81. 




APPENDIX. 


Note 1. page 27. 

“The doctrine of materialism, if it does not owe its birth, yet has had its 
embellishment from our greatest poet Milton, who, in his fifth book of Para¬ 
dise Lost, exhibits the angel Raphael teaching and explaining the doctrine at 
large to Adam and Eve. It will not be improper to produce the passage here, 
that his admirers who have asserted that the imputation of such an opinion to 
this divine poet is a positive slander, may learn to speak more cautiously. I 
shall first give the sum of what he says, and then produce his words. 

“The poet asserts, 1. That God made one first matter. 2. That he endued 
this matter with various forms. 3. That out of it he produced all life. 4. That 
this life is capable of continual refinement, till the body itself is transmuted 
into spirit. 5. That the food received into the human stomach, being digested, 
produces blood; blood, vital spirits; vital spirits, animal spirits; animal spirits, 
intellectual. 6. That from these spring life, sense, fancy, and understanding. 
7. That from our aliment the soul receives discursive and intuitive reason, 
which is its essence. 8. And that, in short, all spirits and intellectual beings 
are formed out of matter, and that from a prima materia men, angels, and arch¬ 
angels derived their being. The words follow from which I have drawn the 
above particulars:— 

‘ To whom the winged Hierarch replied ; 

O Adam.' One Almighty is from whom 
All things proceed, and up to him return, 

If not depraved from good, created all 
Such to perfection, one first matter all 
Endued with various forms, various degrees 
Of substance, and in things that live, of life : 

But more refined, more spirituous, and pure, 

As nearer to him placed; or nearer tending 
Each in their several active spheres assigned, 

Till body up to spirit work, in bounds 
Proportioned to each kind.’ 

“ To illustrate this doctrine, he produces the following simile from the vegeta¬ 
ble creation, to prove that the soul receives its being and reason from the food 



342 


APPENDIX. 


which is digested in the stomach; as spirits and flowers have their savours and 
odours from the root that bears them. 

-‘ Lo .' from the root 

Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the leaves 
More airy, but the bright consummate flower 
Spirits odorous breathes ; flowers and their fruit— 

Man’s nourishment, by gradual scale sublimed, 

To vital spirits aspire ; to animal— 

To intellectual; give both life and sense, 

Fancy and understanding ; whence the soul 
Reason receives, and reason is her being, 

Discursive or intuitive.’— ('Paradise Lost, Book 5. 1. 468—83. 

Dr. Adam Clarke’s Discourses. Vol. I. page 263—4. 

Note 2. page 34. 

“The observations of Aristotle on perception are highly important, as 
tending to shew the existence of living powers in animals, distinct from the 
organs by which these powers are displayed. He affirms that there is always a 
medium interposed between the perceiving power and the object perceived, ap¬ 
pealing to the sense of sight. Sight, he observes, is not produced by placing 
the object on the eye, nor yet can be produced by the object itself at a distance, 
and consequently must result from something intervening between the eye and 
the object, so as to make an impression from the object on the eye. He mistook 
indeed, the nature of this medium, conceiving light to be the active development 
of the abstract nature of transparency in some body, as in air or water, and not 
material or capable of motion. But the conclusion itself is just; and it shews 
that the eye perceives only as an instrument of communication with external 
objects to an internal power of the soul. The senses which appear to militate 
against this conclusion, are those of touch and taste, which seem to be produced 
immediately, without any interposed medium. But there is no reason, he 
argues, to conclude the flesh to be the feeling power in itself because it acts 
instantaneously; for an artificial membrane spread over the body would pro¬ 
duce the like instantaneous effect: and supposing the air to grow all around us, 
we should, in like manner, have immediate perception of all objects of sense, 
and thus appear to have perceptions of sight and hearing and smelling by one 
sense.”— Hampden on Aristotle’ 1 s Philosophy. (Theoretic.) Encyc. Britan. 

Note 3. page 36. 

“ Very nearly about the time when Hartley’s Theory appeared, Charles 
Bonnet, of Geneva, published some speculations of his own, proceeding almost 
exactly pn the same assumptions. Both writers speak of vibrations (cbranlc- 
mens) in the nerves; and both of them have recourse to a subtle and elastic 
ether, co-operating with the nerves in carrying on the communication between 
soul and body. This fluid Bonnet conceived to be contained in the nerves in 
a manner analogous to that in which the electric fluid is contained in the solid 
bodies which conduct it; differing, in this respect, from the Cartesians as well 
as from the ancient physiologists, who considered the nerves as hollow tubes or 
pipes, within which the animal spirits were included. It is to this elastic ether 
that Bonnet ascribes the vibrations of which he supposes the nerves to be 
susceptible; for the nerves themselves (he justly observes) have no resem- 



APPENDIX. 


343 


blance to the stretched cords of a musical instrument. Hartley’s Theory 
differs in one respect from this, as he speaks of vibrations and vibratiuncles in 
the medullary substance of the brain and nerves. He agrees, however, with 
Bonnet in thinking that to these vibrations in the nerves, the co-operation of 
the ether is essentially necessary ; and, therefore, at bottom the two hypotheses 
may be regarded as in substance the same. As to the trifling shade of differ¬ 
ence between them, the advantage seems to me to be in favour of Bonnet.”- 

“ Many physicians (says Quesnai) have thought that the mere vibration of 
the nerves, caused by objects which touch the organs of the body, is sufficient 
to occasion motion and feeling in the parts where the nerves are vibrating. 
They represent the nerves as cords in a high degree of tension, which the slight¬ 
est contact may throw into vibration throughout their whole extent. Philoso¬ 
phers, who have little knowledge of anatomy, may form such an idea.But 

this imaginary tension of the nerves, which renders them so susceptible d’ebran- 
lement ct de vibration, is such a gross figment, that it would be ridiculous to 
occupy one’s self seriously in its refutation.”— Econ. Animate. Sect. 3. c. 13. 
Stewart’s Preliminary Dissertations to the Encyclopedia Britannica. 
page 170—1. 

' Note 4. page 66. 

“ The practice of arranging the logical entities, known by the names of 
powers, faculties, or functions, into different classes, and ascribing them to 
different species of souls, appears to have been prevalent at an early period, 
both among philosophers and poets. Empedocles allotted a rational and a 
sensitive soul to every animal; the rational one being derived from the gods, 
and the sentient a product of the four elements. But the ancients generally 
reserved the rational soul for man. In Homer’s time the soul was divided into 
two species, the Qpw and the 9vpoc, but afterwards, according to Diogenes 
Laertius, into three; while the body was considered tripartite, being 
composed of a mortal or crustaceous part,—a divine, ethereal, or luciform porl 
tion appropriated to the fyw—i and an aerial, misty, or vaporous part allotted 
to the Gv^og. After the dissolution of the mortal part, however the tyw 
was entirely separated from the 9vy.og, and a different habitation assigned 
to each. Hence we learn from Homer, that the of Hercules was 

actually feasting with the gods, and making love to Hebe, at the very time 
that Ulysses was conversing with his 9 vpog in Hades. Similar notions were 
entertained by the Roman Poets. According to them every man possessed a 
threefold soul, which, after the dissolution of the body, resolved itself into the 
manes, the anima, or spiritus, and the umbra, to each of which a different 
place was assigned. The manes descended to the infernal regions, to inhabit 
either Tartarus or Elysium ; the anima ascended to the skies, to mingle with 
the gods; while the umbra hovered around the tomb, as if unwilling to quit its 
connexion with the body, of which it was the wraith or shadow. 

“ Some, however, thought that spectral illusions were souls visibly expanded; 
but others doubted whether they were the principles of life, or merely 

the vehicles of such principles. The ghost of Hercules, which Ulysses saw 
in Hades, was, according to Homer, his &X* and «**©», or his corporeal 
likeness, animated by his Gu/xoj; and such simulacra were supposed to speak, 
to complain, to feel hungry, and to receive nourishment, though probably at 




344 


APPENDIX. 


that table only where spare fast diets with the gods. * * * Dr. Barclay 

has further remarked, that ‘ in most, if not in all, of these simulacra , the dress 
and its fashions were x'epresented as well as the body; while in all the poetical 
regions of the dead, chariots and various species of armour were honoured 
likewise with their separate simulacra ; so that these regions, as appears from 
the Odyssey , JEneid and Edda , were just the simulacra of the manners, 
opinions, customs, and fashions, that characterized the times and countries in 
which their poetical historians flourished.’— (Inquiry into opinions, ancient 
and modern , concerning life and organization.) ” Browne on Apparitions. 
Encyc. Britan. 

Note 5. page 76. 

“No one, enlightened by the Scriptures, whether he acknowledge his obliga¬ 
tions to them or not, has ever been betrayed into so great an absurdity as to 
deny the individuality of the human soul; and yet wdiere the light of revelation 
has not spread, absurd and destructive to morals as this notion is, it very ex¬ 
tensively prevails. The opinion that the human soul is a part of God, inclosed 
for a short time in matter, but still a portion of his essence, runs through much 
of the Greek philosophy. It is still more ancient than that, and at the present 
day, the same opinion destroys all idea of accountability among those who in 

India follow the Brahminieal system.”-“ The idea of Warburton, that the 

doctrine of the ancient philosophers concei’ning the resorption of human souls, 
after death, into the divine essence, is not figurative, is fully borne out by 
the researches which have been made, since his time, into the corresponding 
philosophy of the Hindoos. God, as separate from matter, the Hindoos con¬ 
template as a being reposing in his own happiness, destitute of ideas—as in¬ 
finite placidity—as an unruffled sea of bliss—as being perfectly abstracted and 
void of consciousness. They therefore deem it the height of perfection to be 
like this being. The person whose very nature, say they, is absorbed in divine 
meditation; whose life is like a sweet sleep, unconscious and undisturbed; 
who does not even desire God, and who is changed into the image of the ever- 
blessed, obtains absorption into Brumhu. (Ward’s View of the Hindoos, 8vo. 
Vol. II. page 177—8.) And that this doctrine of absorption is taken literally, is 
proved not merely by the terms in which it is expressed, though these are suffi¬ 
ciently unequivocal; but by its being opposed by some of the followers of Vish- 
noo, and by a few also of their philosophers. Mr. Ward quotes Jumudugnee, 
as the exception to the common opinion : he says the idea of losing a distinct 
existence by absorption, as a drop is lost in the ocean, is abhorrent. It is 
pleasant to feed on sweetmeats, but no one wishes to be the sweetmeat himself.” 
Watson’s Theological Institutes. Vol. I. page 19, 50. 

Note 6. page 78. 

“ Dixit Rabbi Ketina, sex annorum millibus stat mundus, et uno (millenario) 
vastabitur; de quo dicitur, ‘ Et exaltabitur Dominus solus die illo? Tra- 
ditio adstipulatur R. Ketinrn : sicut ex septenis annis Septimus quisque annus 
remissionis est, ita ex septem millibus annorum mundi Septimus millenarius 
remissionis erit, ut 1 Dominus solus exaltetur in die illo? ”— In Gemara San¬ 
hedrim apud Mede, page 535 et page 893.-“Traditio domus Eliae: Se* 

mille annos durat mundus : bis mille annis Lex; denique bis mille annis dies 



APPENDIX. 


345 


Chiisti. ” Apud Mede. - u Justi quos resuscitabit Deus non redigentur 

Uemm in pulverem. Si quaeras autem, Mille annis istis quibus Deus Sanctus 
benedictus renovaturus est mundum suum de quibus dicitur ‘ Et cxaltabitur 
Dominus solus in die illo,’ quid Justis futurum sit; sciendum quod Deus 
Sanctus benedictus dabit illis alas quasi aquilarum, ut volent super facie aqua- 
lum ) unde dicitur, ‘ Propterea non timebimus, cum mutabitur terra/” 
{Psalm xlii. 2.— Newton’s Diss. on the Prophecies. Vol. I. page 352. 

Note 7. page 261. 

“ No men ever undertook to deny the divine origin of Christianity under 
circumstances so favourable for the experiment as those of the German rational 
ists. The hand of power was not against them, nay it was sometimes with them ; 
they had possession of the learned bodies—they were masters of the clergy— 
they had a vast band of journals with them—they had every advantage which 
facilities in literature could give—they had numbers and wealth and clamour 
on their side—they had, in a word, ample space and verge enough to work 
their will, if that will could have been worked. And yet, in spite of all that meta¬ 
physical and mythological researches could effect to get rid of the divine 
authority of the Bible, in spite of all that sophistry and clamour and ridicule 
could effect to introduce the so-called ‘ religion of reason,’ the Bible remains 
where it was, and the ‘ religion of reason’ has been rejected. For the entire and 
healthful and life-giving body of Scripture, the rationalists sought to give us a 
mass of broken and desecrated fragments ; from the ‘consecrated fount of living 
love,’ they sought to turn us to the ‘ comfortless and hidden well ’ of natural 
religion. But all that was holy and healthful and true in human nature, has 
turned away from them, and has demanded, with a voice which admitted of no 
truce and no parley, that bread which came down from heaven, and that living 
water, ‘ of which whoever drinketh, shall never thirst again.’ The very 
weakness of humanity has been too strong for the advocates of natural religion 
in all the pride of philosophy arid learning and station and strength. Their 
outcry has been silenced by the still small voice which came from the chamber 
of disease, the house of mourning, and the bed of death. ‘.Miserable comforters 
were they all ’ in the day of suffering and sorrow, and the support which they 
could not give, the sick and the sorrowful sought elsewhere. 

“These facts are worth a thousand arguments. I ask not what an Eichhorn 
was pleased to admit or to reject—I care not what a Wegscheider has proved 
or disproved—I inquire not what a Pa ulus believes or disbelieves, but I know 
that they have used their utmost efforts to convince the world that Christianity 
is a human invention, and that they have failed. The Bible has laughed 
them and their efforts to scorn. The storms and tempests of unbelief have 
beaten upon it with all their fury, and have beaten upon it in vain. So it hath 
ever been ! And so it will be ! Again will the clouds gather—again will the 
storm rage—and again will it expend itself in impotent and unavailing fury. 
For ‘ there is no wisdom, nor understanding, nor counsel against the Lord.’ 

‘ The counsel of the Lord that shall stand,’ and ‘ the Word of the Lord endureth 
forever.”’— Rose’s Protestantism in Germany, page 8—10. 

Note 8. page 293. 

“ Men of learning, after the most laborious investigation and study of the 

2 s 



346 


APPENDIX, 


ancient religion, have usually come to the conclusion, that it is a profound and 
impenetrable mystery, and that such it was in the time of Cicero, and as far 
back as the earliest records extend. All the explanations that have hitherto 
been given, are equally unsatisfactory; the astronomical not less so than the 
rest. Meanwhile the beauty of the mythology is undoubted ; it is like nature, 
for whose wonderful operations the modern theories will not account better 
than the ancient, while the excellence of her works cannot be denied or ques¬ 
tioned. It was a collection of fables from all countries, but it had one cha¬ 
racteristic unity—the unity of beauty, and was admirably adapted to the wants 
of the imagination, and to satisfy the cravings of the fancy in human beings of 
every age and rank. To admit that all of its creations are allegorical, is 
equally impossible as to deny that some are. This solution indeed ought to be 
applied sparingly: a good allegory is no doubt satisfactory, but an indifferent 
one is scarcely tolerable, and nothing is more tiresome and offensive than alle¬ 
gory long sustained or frequently repeated. Theorists have used this key with 
much confidence, and have sought to lay open, by its assistance, the sense of 
the ancient mysteries. Each department of mythology has been exposed in its 
turn to their fruitless attempts, and the origin of the twelve signs of the zodiac 
has been a favourite point of inquiry. Every speculator has found in them a 
confirmation of his own views, a theory after his own heart, plainly written in 
the heavens, in legible and indelible characters, to unfold to mankind matters 
of very different natures, and of very unequal importance :— a complete de¬ 
velopment, as some assert, of the foundation of every mode of religious faith, 
or a plan of diet, as others affirm, so salubrious as to obviate the possibility of 
disease in the human frame, or of moral evil and consequent misery in the 
mind of man. * * * 

“ The admirable Heyne complains of the unnatural and forced hypotheses 
of mythists, and of their disposition to torture the meaning of the ancient 
fables, and to pervert them to signify matters that were diametrically opposed 
to the spirit and sense of antiquity. ‘ For the study of antiquity (he says) 
we are equally in want of treatises upon the accessory departments of know¬ 
ledge, and altogether a good work upon mythology. We have, forsooth, many 
treatises upon mythology; but I do not know what evil genius has seized upon 
those who have treated this subject. They commence by establishing some 
hypothesis, after which they seek to denaturalize and give a forced interpreta¬ 
tion to the ancient fables ; yet not one of these hypotheses is established even 
upon the spirit of antiquity. We w'ant, therefore, a mythology which consists 
of a plain narrative, representing the primitive form under which each fable 
has been handed down to us, by the first poets and the first artists, and after¬ 
wards shewing the changes and additions that have been made by later poets 
and artists. The best explanation is that which may be drawn from this 
method of separating the period of the first origin of fables, and afterwards 
following them through the different changes that they have experienced.’ ”— 
Hogg on Antiquities. JEncyc. Britan. 

“ T’he mythology of a people is invariably composed of elements greatly 
dissimilar in nature ; it preserves the memory not only of historic facts, various 
in kind, but likewise that of the pervading ideas of the people, with respect to 
the deities and their worship ; that of the results from observation and experi¬ 
ence in astronomy, in morals, in arts. These memorials are usually presented 


APPENDIX. 


347 


undei the mask of an historical narrative, because man, as yet unpractised in 
abstract thinking, necessarily represents every thing to his mind under a tangi¬ 
ble form. Partial and vain, therefore, on the one hand, are the endeavours of 
such as fancy they can discover in the mythology of any people a consistent 
whole, or a scientific system of any kind whatever: difficult, on the other hand, 
is it to draw the line between what, in mythology, does and what does not, be¬ 
long to pure history. The employment of mythology for the purposes of history 
requires, therefore, an acute spirit of criticism, and an acute knowledge of 
antiquity. These correct ideas respecting mythology—the key to the whole of 
earlier antiquity, were first set forth and promulgated by Heyne, in his works 
upon Virgil and other poets, in his edition of Apollodorus, and in various 
essays published in the transactions of the Gottingen Scientific Society. To 
them, principally, are the Germans indebted for the rapidity with which they 
have outstripped other nations in obtaining a clear insight into the science of 
antiquity.”—H eeken’s Manual of Ancient History , page 5—6. 

Note 9. page 300. 

“The doctrine of Epicurus, that the Deity concerns not himself with the 
affairs of the world or its inhabitants, which, as Cicero has judiciously ob¬ 
served (De Nat. Deor. lib. 1. ad ealeem), while it acknowledges a God in 
words, denies him in reality, has furnished the original stock upon which most 
of these bitter fruits of modern infidelity have been grafted. Nature, in the 
eyes of a large proportion of the enemies of revelation, occupies the place, and 
does the work of its great author. Thus Hume, when he writes against mira¬ 
cles, appears to think that the Deity has delegated some or all of his powers to 
nature, and will not interfere with that trust (Essays, II. 75); and, to name no 
more, Lamarck, treading, in some measure, in the steps of Robinet (who 
supposes that all the links of the animal kingdom, in which nature gradually 
ascends from low to high, were experiments in her progress towards her great 
and ultimate aim—the formation of man.— Barclay on Organization, <5fc. page 
263), thus states his opinion :—‘ Nature , in all her operations, since she can¬ 
not proceed but by gradations, could not produce all animals at a time ; at first 
she formed the most simple ; and passing from these to the more complex, she 
has established successively amongst them different systems of particular organs 
— has multiplied them and augmented them with more and more energy; and 
accumulating them in the most perfect, she has thus given existence to all 
known animals with the organization and faculties which we observe in them.’ 
(Animal sans Vertebr. 1. 123.) —Thus denying to the Creator the glory of 
forming those works of creation, the animal and vegetable kingdom (for he 
assigns to both the same origin, ibid. 83), in which his glorious attributes are 
most conspicuously manifested ; and ascribing them to nature, or a certain 
order of things, as he defines it (214)—a blind power that operates necessarily 
(311), which he admits, however, to be the product of the will of the Supreme Be¬ 
ing (216), though his existence is not even mentioned in his earlier productions. 
Thus we may say, that like his fore-runner Epicurus, re tollit, dum oratione 
relinquit, Deum. But though he ascribes all to nature, yet as the immediate 
cause of all the animal forms, he refers to the local circumstances, wants,'and 
habits of individual animals themselves ; these he regards as the modifiers of 
their organization and structure (162.) To shew the absurd nonplus to which 


348 


APPENDIX. 


this, his favourite theory, has reduced him, it will only be necessary to mention 
the individual instances which, in different works, he adduces to exemplify it. 
In his systeme he supposes that the web-footed birds (Anseres) acquired their 
natatory feet by frequently separating their toes as far as possible from each 
other in their efforts to swim. Thus the skin that unites these toes at their 
base contracted a habit of stretching itself; and thus in time the web-foot of 
the duck and the goose was produced. The waders (Grallce) which, in order 
to procure their food, must stand in the water, but do not love to swim, from 
their constant efforts to keep their bodies from submersion, were in the habit 
of always stretching their legs with this view, till they grew long enough to 
spare them the trouble !!! (13.) How the poor birds escaped drowning before 
they had got their web feet and long legs the author does not inform us. In 
another work, which I have not now by me, I recollect he attributes the long 
neck of the camelopard to its efforts to reach the boughs of the mimosa, which, 
after the lapse of a few thousand years, it at length accomplished!!! In his 
last work he selects, as an example, one of the Moluscce , which, as it moved 
along, felt an inclination to explore, by means of touch, the bodies in its path : 
for this purpose it caused the nervous and other fluids, to move in masses suc¬ 
cessively to certain points of its head, and thus in process of time it acquired 
its horns or tentacula !! (Animal sans Yertebr. 1. 188.^ It is grievous 

that this eminent zoologist, who, in other respects, stands at the head of his 
science, should patronize notions so confessedly absurd and childish.”— Intro¬ 
duction to Entomology , by Kikkby and Spence. Vol. III. page 349. 

Note 10. page 304. 

“ I saw the sun in glory go 

Like a conqueror down the w r est; 

And I felt a purer, deeper glow 

Light up in my lonely breast.” 

This observation is beautifully illustrated by its connexion with the follow¬ 
ing myth : —“Among those extravagancies of the superstitious fancy of the 
Hindoos, some occasional gleams of an acquaintance with Europe, and still 
further, numerous allusions to an abode of bliss, or imaginary land of peace 
and happiness, deserve a moment’s attention. Independent of the dwipas or 
islands, which are the mere offspring of system, the Puranic legends make 
constant allusion to a sort of fairy land, floating as free as the hopes to which 
it owes its creation. This is the Sweta-dwipa, or white island of the west, 
situated beyond the Calodabd’lii, or sea of Cala, the black, or Pluto. Hither 
the Divs and Devas, the multiform Deities of the Hindoo Pantheon, resort as 
to a more genial dwelling, from the state and splendour of Meru. Here, by 
the authority of all the legends, is the Isa-pura, or Is’pura, the abode of the 
gods; perhaps the Hesperia of the western classics. That blessed land en¬ 
joys the Su-bhransu, or mild beams of ten thousand moons. 

“ Wherever the Indo-Teutonic nations, as they are called, fixed themselves, 
we find white islands stilll looming in the west, and surrounded by white seas. 
The Caspian has always been called the white sea by the nations inhabiting its 
eastern shores, and bears among them, at present, the Turkish name Akdingis, 
which has that auspicious signification. The Turks also, from their first 
entrance into Asia Minor, gave the name of white sea to the vEgean. The 
word Baltic, likewise, in the Lithuanian tongue, signifies the white sea ; and 


APPENDIX. 


349 


the Sarmatian nations, while occupying a position between it and the Euxine, 
gave to the latter the correlative name of Mor-mori or the black sea. The names 
ot Wittland and of Helgoland, the white and holy island, were profusely spread 
through the north-west of Europe. Holy islands were numerous in the German 
seas. Britain was Al-fionn, or the white island; and Ireland (Icrnis, empha¬ 
tically the western isle) was anciently called Muic-inis, which, according to 
the soberest critics, bears the same interpretation,—and Banue, or the happy 
island. In Hesperia, or the west, was the peaceful reign of Saturn, the elys- 
sian fields of Homer, and the happy isles of Hesiod. A minute examination 
of classical mythology would furnish innumerable proofs, that popular belief 
among the Greeks placed Paradise beyond the western ocean, and that those 
fabled regions of bliss did not owe their creation to the glow and fertility of 
Grecian imagination. The myth of a land, of happiness in the west was evi¬ 
dently one of the fragments gathered into the jumbled mass of Grecian mytho¬ 
logy. Geographers might, therefore, have spared themselves the trouble of 
fixing the locality of the fortunate isles: to apply epithets of this kind is to 
pervert them, and to suppose them originating in the discoveries of the Phoenici¬ 
ans, is to mistake their nature: the tradition created the island, and not the 
island the tradition. It is likewise worthy of remark, that the Cimmeria, the 
Acheron, and Elysium of the early Greeks, which appear to have been bor¬ 
rowed from Phoenician sources, were almost wholly yielded up to the poets as 
ornaments of their compositions, while the belief in Hyperboreans and Oceanic 
islands of contentment, supported by national traditions, seems to have suffered 
no decay from literary cultivations. 

“ The persuasion that the dwelling place of happiness is in the west, may 
have exercised an important influence on the early migrations of mankind. 
The existence and wide diffusion of such an opinion are clearly established ; 
nor is there any reason to believe that it was grounded in positive tradition. 
But then it will be asked, why was Paradise supposed to be in the west? An 
answer to this question may be found in the constitution of the human being, 
who is always most disposed to receive profound impressions at the hour when 
the natural day is coming to a close, and contemplates with the finest suscep¬ 
tibilities that most glorious of celestial phenomena—the setting sen. (See 
Heyne’s Opuscula Acadcmica.) The Hindoos retain, to the present day, their 
old belief. The chalk with which the Brahmins mark their foreheads, is from 
the west: they even pretend that it is brought over land from Britain. Yogees, 
followed by their trains of pilgrims, have attempted in modern times to reach 
the Hyperborean regions across Europe, and have even advanced as far as 
Russia; but the importunate curiosity, by which they were assailed, effectually 
subdued, in every instance, their piety and courage. 

“ In the west the primitive tradition is still remembered. The lakes and 
seas of Scotland and Ireland have all their floating and holy islands. 1 he Inis 
Wen, or white island of the Gaels, and Ynis y Cedeirn, or islands of the 
mighty ones of the Welsh, are still objects of hope and veneration, 1 he most 
westerly group of the Hebrides,—the Hannan islands, which are devoutly be¬ 
lieved to be seven in number, and are even laid down as seven in our maps, 
though only six are visible to the eyes of the sceptical, are said to have the 
virtue of disposing to prayer and religious meditations all who land upon them. 
The Arran islands, on the west of Ireland, are entitled the isles of the living, 


350 


APPENDIX. 


that is to say, of those who have' returned to life; but the language of this 
general superstition was carried far beyond the shores of Eui’ope. It is found 
among the Indians of North America, who fervently believe in the existence 
of a land of happiness in the west, beyond the ocean ; but whether this tradi¬ 
tion belongs to them originally, or was introduced among them by the Scandi¬ 
navian adventurers of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, it is impossible to 
determine.”—Abridged from “ Maritime and Inland discovery.” Vol. I. 
page 139—153.— Lardner’s Cabinet Cyclopedia, No. 2. 

Note 11. page 306. 

“ The principal objections to this doctrine concerning God are the following:— 
1. This theory does not account for the existence of God, nor does it render it in 
the least more comprehensible or intelligible than the common one; and, on the 
other hand, it subjects our idea of God to laws which can apply only to finite 
things, to the visible world, whilst it really subjects God himself, during these 
self-manifestations, to the power of a supreme fate, of an original supreme and 
self-existent law. 2. The assertion, that God could not, from the beginning, 
exist as an all-perfect being, cannot be proved. It is founded on the general 
principle, that the less perfect cannot proceed from the more perfect; but vice 
versa, the latter from the former (non fumus ex fulgore, sed fulgor ex fumo). 
But even if this were an universal law of nature, it could not on that account be 
applied to the relation of the Creator of the world. Upon this principle: ‘ Had 
God, from the beginning, actually been possessed of the highest degi'ee of per¬ 
fection, as he could not attain a higher degree of excellence, he would have had 
no reason for creating and bringing into existence such a multitude of objects, 

by which he could only have been rendered less perfect.’-But agreeably to 

the assertion of the author of the system himself, love is the ground or. reason of 
the creation of the world; and to create it, was condescension in God, nor could 
he, by creating the world, suffer any diminution of his perfection. 3. On the 
other hand, the hypothesis, that from a principle which is in itself not moral 
and not intelligent, God evolves himself into the most perfect being, warrants 
the conclusion, that neither the creation nor government of the world is the work 
of perfect wisdom, goodness, and holiness. The immanence of all things in 
God, which is asserted by this hypothesis, destroys the individuality and sub¬ 
stantiality of the creatures, and leads to the identification of the creature with 
the Creator. It destroys, too, the freedom of the will of man, for freedom 
cannot consist with this immanence in God ; and, thereby it destroys the dis¬ 
tinction between moral good and evil.”—Abridged from Storr’s Elements of 
Biblical Theology. Vol. I. page 306—8. Ed. Andover. 

Note 12. page 332. 

“ Previously to the scientific investigation of the principles, the laws, and 
the ends of phenomena presented to it, the human mind in some sort imagines, 
or, as it were, divines them; and this imagination conforms itself to the laws of 
the fancy; assimilating and personifying. It is thus that man, in a state of 
nature, conceives of all things, as living and resembling himself. There is 
vaguely presented to his thoughts a world of spirits, at first without laws ; 
afterwards, under the empire of a law, foreign and external. (Fate.) He con¬ 
ceives an idea of unity and harmony, less at first in the internal world than the 



APPENDIX. 


351 


external; less in the whole than the parts; less by reflection than by a poetic 
cication (his fancy finding objects for the conceptions of his understanding); 
and thus advances from a capricious indulgence of the imagination, to the exer¬ 
cise of legitimate thought. 

“ The development of the understanding begins with a sentiment of religion. 
The more that man, by reflection, extends and enlarges the sphere of his con¬ 
sciousness, the more he elevates himself, with regard to the object of his venera¬ 
tion, from sensation to mental conception, and from opinions to general ideas. 
The human mind investigates the principles of its religious belief, first of all 
without , in the object ; subsequently within, in the intellectual subject. 

“ It is thus that man advances, from a state of consciousness, obscure and 
imperfect, to an enlightened knowledge; from poetry to reason; from a blind 
to a rational faith; from individual to universal. It is thus that, guided by 
an obscure sentiment of truth, of harmony, of analogy, he prosecutes the pur¬ 
suit of something certain and necessary; to which may be referred all the 
points of belief which have attracted his attention, and which may establish 
the certainty of them.—It is thus that he attempts philosophy at first to satisfy 
liis own mind ; afterwards, with a moi'e general view, for the advancement of 
reason itself. In the natural order of her progress, philosophy apprehends, at 
first, the complex objects of the world without, which are of a nature to excite, 
in a lively manner, its attention ; subsequently, it advances by degrees to ob¬ 
jects more difficult of apprehension, more obscure, more internal, and more 
simple.”— Tennemann’s Manual of the History of Philosophy, page 31—2. 

Note 13. page 333. 

“ But may we not be permitted to ask, whence this assumed superiority of 
modern over ancient philosophers has arisen ? And whence the extraordinary 
influx of light upon these latter times has been derived? Is there any one so 
infatuated by his admiration of the present age, as seriously to think that the 
intellectual powers of man are stronger and more perfect now than they were 
wont to be ; or that the particular talents of himself, or any of his contempo¬ 
raries, are superior to those which shone forth in the luminaries of the Gentile 
world? Do the names even of Locke, Cudwohih, Cumberland, Clarke, 
Wilkins, or Wollaston, men so justly eminent in modern times, and who 
laboured so indefatigably to perfect the theory of natural religion, convey to 
us an idea of greater intellectual ability than those of the consummate masters 
of the portico, the grove, or the lyceum ? How is it then, that the advocates 
for the natural perfection, or perfectibility of human reason, do not perceive 
that for all the superiority of the present over former times, with respect to 
religious knowledge, we must be indebted to some intervening cause , and not to 
any actual enlargement of the human faculties ? Is it to be believed that any 
man of the present age, of whatever natural talents he may be possessed, 
could have advanced one step beyond the heathen philosophers in his pursuit of 
Divine truth, had he lived in their times, and enjoyed only the light that was 
bestowed upon them ? Or can it be fairly proved, that, merely by the light of 
nature, or by reasoning upon such data only, as men possess, who never heard 
of revealed religion, any moral or religious truth has been discovered since the 
days when Athens and Rome affected to give laws to the intellectual, as well as 
to the political world ? That great improvements have since been made, in 


352 


APPENDIX. 


framing systems of ethics, of metaphysics, and what is termed natural theo¬ 
logy, need not be denied. But these improvements may easily be traced to one 
obvious cause—the widely diffused light of the Gospel, which, having shone with 
more or less lustre, on all nations, has imparted, even to the most simple and 
illiterate of the sons of men, such a degree of knowledge on these subjects, as, 
without it, would be unattainable by the most learned and profound.— Van 
Mildert’s Boyle’s Lect. 

Note 14. page 334. 

“It must be granted that philosophy has had a beyinning , because it is 
nothing else than a superior degi'ee of energy and activity in the exercise of 
reason, which must have been preceded by an inferior. But no sufficient reason 
has been alleged to induce a belief in the existence of a primitive philosophic 
people, with whom philosophy might be supposed to have commenced, and 
from whom all philosophic knowledge might have emanated ; for an aptness to 
philosophize is natural to the human mind, and has not been reserved exclu¬ 
sively for any one people. The idea of a primitive philosophic people is 
founded :—1. On the hypothesis that all instruction came by revelation. 2. In 
the tendency of the understanding to refer corresponding facts to the same 
origin. 3. In the attempt to render certain doctrines more venerable by their 
high antiquity. The general cause is to be sought in the indolence natural to 
human nature, and the habit of confounding opinions which have a semblance 
of philosophy with philosophy itself. The very hypothesis of such a people 
would remove only one step farther—the question of the origin of philosophy. 
Nor must we dignify with the name of science the symbolical notions of some 
of the earlier races, which did not as yet clearly apprehend and grapple with 
their objects.”— Tennemann’s Manual of the History of Philosophy, page 7. 

We shall venture a remark upon this passage, since it appears to be in oppo¬ 
sition to an idea which pervades most of the dissertations contained in the 
present volume. For our own part, we do not argue for the existence of a 
primitive philosophic people, in the sense in which the term philosophy is 
usually taken. All that we contend for is, that an original revelation was 
vouchsafed to the earliest progenitors of our species, and that this original 
revelation cannot, in any respect, be termed philosophy, since it was not the 
result of the ordinary deductions of reason. With respect to those nations 
who degenerated into barbarism and idolatry, the doctrines of this original 
revelation, which were both few and simple , still formed the elements and 
ground-work of their superstitions ; and with respect to those nations, amongst 
whom a philosophical spirit was excited, philosophy had the advantage of this 
traditionary knowledge, either to modify, reject, systematize, or perfect it ac¬ 
cording to the dictates of its own wayward fancy. Now there is nothing irra¬ 
tional in such an opinion as this, for it is supported by the direct evidence of 
revelation, and by much indirect evidence derived from profane history. The 
characters of this original revelation may have been rendered still more promi¬ 
nent and vivid, by the occasional contact of more enlightened nations with those 
that were less so. 

“ Although we discover in every people the traces of a spirit of scientific 
inquiry, nevertheless this general disposition does not appear to have developed 
itself in all, in an equal degree : nor has philosophy among all attained to the 


APPENDIX. 


353 


character of a science. In general it seems as if nature employed the civiliza¬ 
tion of one nation, as the means of civilizing others, and accorded only to a fern 
the distinction of originality in intellectual discovery. Consequently, all na¬ 
tions have not an equal claim to a place in the history of this science. The 
first belongs to those among whom the spirit of philosophy, originally aided by 
a slight external impulse, has felt itself sufficiently strong to advance to inde¬ 
dependent researches, and to gain ground in the paths of science; the second 
belongs to such as, without possessing so much originality and spontaneous ex¬ 
ertion, have adopted philosophic ideas from others,—have made them their 
own, and thereby exerted an influence over the destinies of philosophy. 

“ The Orientals, prior to the Greeks, in point of antiquity and the date of 
their civilization, never attained to the same eminence, at least as far as we are 
enabled to judge. Their doctrines were constantly invested with the character 
of revelation, diversified by the imagination under a thousand different as¬ 
pects. Even among the Hindoos they wear a form altogether mystical and 
symbolical. It was the genius of these nations to clothe, in the colours of the 
fancy, the opinions of the understanding, and a certain number of speculative 
notions, more or less capriciously conceived, in order to render them more evi¬ 
dent, without troubling themselves to examine the operations of mind and their 
principles, with its movements progressive and retrograde. The notions re¬ 
specting the Deity, the world, and mankind, which these nations incontestably 
entertained, were not , with them, the causes or the consequences of any true 
philosophy. Their climate, their political constitution and despotic govern¬ 
ments, with the institution of castes, were often obstacles to the free develop¬ 
ment of mind. 

“ Greece was gradually rescued from barbarism, and advanced to a state of 
civilization by means of foreigners. Colonies from Egypt, Phoenicia, and 
Phrygia, introduced inventions and arts, such as agriculture, music, religious 
hymns, fabulous poems, and mysteries. It cannot be doubted that, in like man 
ner, a great number of religious opinions and ideas must have migrated from 
Egypt to Greece. * * * The religion of the Greeks, notwithstanding the 

sensible forms which it assumed in most of its mythi (the meaning of which was 
indeterminate^), presented a subject matter to engage and exercise the curiosity 
of the human mind. The poets laid hold on these materials, and employed 
them with unrivalled success. By these latter a sort of national education was 
established, addressing itself, in part, to the understanding, in part to the 
senses, which served as an introduction to scientific pursuits. * * * A 

spirit of philosophical research first manifested itself in some rude attempts in 
Ionia, made at the period when this country, colonized from Greece, enjoyed 
the utmost prosperity. Thence it extended to some of the neighbouring colo¬ 
nies ; subsequently into Magna Graecia, until the conquest of the Persians, and 
the troubles of Southern Italy, compelled it to take refuge in Athens • from 
which, as a centre, intellectual civilization was disseminated, and, as it were, 
radiated over the whole of Greece.”— Tennemann’s Manual of the History 
of Philosophy , page 7—9, 50—51, 58. 

Note 15. page 340. 

There is one negative merit which we cannot refuse to the rationalists, as 
being the result of their philosophical speculations. The school ol Cocceius, 
or the allegorizing school, has been, of late years, considerably declining in 

2 T 


354 


APPENDIX. 


Germany. “ It is impossible ("says Stuart) adequately to describe the excesses 
and absurdities which have been committed in consequence of the allegorizing 
spirit. From the time of Origen, who converted into allegory the account of 
the creation of the world, the creation and fall of man, and multitudes of other 
simple facts related in the Bible, down to the Jesuit—who makes the account of 
the creation of the greater light to rule the day, to mean the pope, and the 
creation of the lesser light, and the stars, to mean the subjection of kings and 
princes to the pope; there have been multitudes in and out of the Catholic 
church, who have pursued the same path. The most sacred doctrines of re¬ 
ligion have often been defended and assailed by arguments of equal validity 
and of the same nature as the exposition of the Jesuit just mentioned. The 
spirit which prompts to this may, in some cases, be commendable ; but as it is 
a mere business of fancy, connected with no principles of philology, and sup¬ 
ported by no reasons drawn from the nature of language, so it is, for the most 
part, not only worthless, but dangerous. And of what possible use, in the end, 
can a principle be, which can prove the most important doctrine, either of 
Judaism or Christianity, as well from the first verse of the first chapter of 
Chronicles, as from any part of the Bible ? Or rather, of what use can the 
Bible be, if it may be interpreted on such principles ?”— Elements of Biblical 
Criticism, page 37—8. 

Morus makes the following striking remarks on Matt. ix. 14—18. “ The 

amount of the whole is, that Christ being asked, why he permitted his disciples 
so much indulgence in regard to fasting, replied by making use of similes to 
shew that no one in common life would do that which is incongruous; and 
therefore he would not compel his disciples to do that which neither the time 
nor the occasion required. For certainly it would have been incongruous for 
the disciples, while Christ was with them, as their guide and teacher, to spend 
their life in sadness, and to devote themselves to rites of this nature; especially 
when Christ was sooii to be taken from them, and they were to be assailed by 
many calamities and distresses. Now if Christ, who knew this would be their 
lot, had forbidden them their present enjoyments, and prematurely loaded 
them with burdensome rites, which were incongruous with their present circum¬ 
stances, and with the indulgence of his affection for them, he would have done 
that which would be like being sad at a wedding feast, or sewing a new patch 
upon an old garment, or putting new wine into old bottles; i. e. he would have 
done an incongruous, unseemly thing. 

“ But he who, overlooking the fact that so many words are employed in the 
designation of one general sentiment, thinks this mode of explanation does not 
exhaust the whole meaning of the similes, will, after the manner of many an¬ 
cient and modern expositors, explain every part by itself; so that the bride¬ 
groom is made the husband of the church, the wine is the Gospel, the old and 
the new are the Pharisaical and Christian doctrines, &c. For myself, I am wont 
to follow the usage of common life, in explaining similitudes ; for this is the 
voice of nature, and can easily be distinguished from the usual method of alle¬ 
gory, fable, and simile. I could wish that the language, opinions, and customs 
of common life, were more frequently regarded in the interpretation of ancient 
authors. 

“If it be true that whatever pertains to the art of expression is drawn from 
the observation of nature and common life, how shall we judge that we have 
learned not the mere opinions and speculations of others about language, but 


APPENDIX. 


3oo 


the real art of language which agrees with the practice of common life, unless 
we compare what we have learned with the results of common and every day’s 
experience? If it be true that any book is simply the language of the author 
as it were addressed to us, can we persuade ourselves that we have attained the 
sense of it, if when we read it, we construe every thing in a different manner 
from what we should, had we heard it spoken?—if we understand language 
against all the usages of common life ?—if we seek in the very syllables of the 
writer mountains of sense , which no one, in the language of common life, looks 
for or suspects ?—if we deny to an author the right of being reasonably construed, 
and not to have his words urged beyond their proper bounds—a thing we always 
concede in conversation, and which is indeed a fundamental rule of explaining 
language that is spoken ?—if we suppose an author to have written merely to 
afford us an occasion to indulge our ingenuity, and while he walks upon the earth, 
to mount ourselves upon the clouds ? Only think how many errors, phantasies, 
and difficulties have been introduced by those, for example, who have com¬ 
mented on the ancient poets, and setting nature at defiance as exhibited in 
common life, have undertaken to interpret from their own fancy! How much 
grave wisdom has been obtruded upon Homer against his will, where his words 
breathed simple nature and common life ! Think with what anxiety of mind 
many have handled the Sacred Writings, while they seemed to forget that al¬ 
though the authors were inspired, yet they were men, they used human language, 
and so wrote it that others, for whom it was designed, could understand it in 
the usual way ; that is, by the application to it of their knowledge of the idiom 
in which it was composed. It may happen, indeed, that pursuing this plain 
beaten path, we may seem to be unlearned, because we do not profess to know 
all which others think they know ; but we shall be more than compensated by 
the abundant satisfaction of having every thing around us, all that common life 
comprises, testifying in our favour, and that the meaning of language must be 
scanned by the rules which we have brought to view. Some perhaps may think, 
too, that we do not exhibit much modesty or diffidence in regard to the sacred 
books, and that we are too liberal and studious of neology . Still our satisfac¬ 
tion will be very great, if the reasons of our interpretation depend on precepts 
drawn from common life and usage, which carry along with them a convincing 
weight of evidence in their favour, and are not repugnant to the nature and 
genius of all languages.”— Dissertationcs Theologies et Philologies. Vol. L 
No. 2. 


.. 


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